The Pure and the Tainted
by I'll rebel to Anything
Summary: Gokudera is hiding something from everyone. The past is going to repeat itself - Gokudera's hold on reality is slipping. trust and loyalty are crucial for their survival together but cant they manage it? yaoi. LEMONS. discontinued T T
1. Modesty Is Key

**The Pure and the Tainted**

**The Pure and the Tainted - 8059  
**_by I'll rebel to Anything_

**Rating: M ***For a reason*

**Summary:** Gokudera is renowned for his bad-boy attitude. But what is it that he's keeping hidden away, from everyone, even his own lover, Yamamoto? Will he finally break his silence, or continue to suffer alone, letting his past eat away at him? When the past threatens to repeat itself through different, yet all too familiar means, Gokudera can feel his hold on reality begin to slip. Will Yamamoto be able to handle the truth as well as his duties as a Guardian while desperately trying to keep Gokudera together? Yaoi. Non-con.

**Warnings:** Yaoi, (male/male), Shouen-ai, non-con / rape, abuse of various kinds and a suicide attempt *spoiler*. Established relationship between Gokudera and Yamamoto. Hurt/Comfort/Romance/Drama.  
DO NOT READ if any of these elements might disturb you. Otherwise, enjoy :3

**Pairings:** Gokuderax Yamamoto and vice versa.

**Important: **This ultimately is set quite a bit after Yamamoto and Gokudera have met, but they haven't fought Mukuro yet, or the Varia (but that is to come). There are reasons for this, however it is set in an AU, so although the plot will develop more-or-less in accordance to the manga, the way the events are unfolded will be rather different. In other words, foundations are the same, but where they lead to are a little different :)

**A/N:** This particular fan fiction will deal with some painful and maybe even disturbing (AKA - graphic) parts of Gokudera's history that will be vaguely hinted at various times in the beginning chapters. It will be fully explained in later chapters. Also, some scenes may seem out of character to what you're accustomed to with the manga (like Gokudera's unshakable calm and his indifference towards romance...) but that is just my artists/author's impression of what he would be like if he were in love. So, bear with it, even through the mushy bits.

**Please note the warnings**. There will be some very painful and angsty moments in this fic. dealing with heavy and severe themes like rape and abuse of various degrees, especially the abuse of a minor and the effects it has on your mental state. Obviously, these are awful things to ever have to encounter and a large part of this fic. is centered around the mental and emotional scars/wounds *another spoiler considering it's in the present tense* that such situations leave behind - I haven't chosen these themes to mock them - such topics are painful for anyone who must endure them - I haven't purposefully chosen them either - it is just a part of the overall plotline I have for this particular fan fiction.

But please, if you think these themes and situations might offend you, don't read. The last thing I want is to mentally disturb or traumatize anyone and this story will get very dark and 'angsty' in a fairly detailed way during some flashback scenes (gomen - I'm just that kind of writer). I _do _promise that there will be lots of comfort for all the hurt though. I suppose it's an exploration of my own feelings and what you would expect in these situations, but AGAIN, this is only MY impressionn alright? :) _*points at Yamamoto who will show us he does actually have a nice soft spot deep down, as does good ol' Goku-chan :D*_

So far, whilst writing this chapter specifically, I've had my playlist 'Current Obsession' on autoplay the entire time - yet I keep gravitating towards 'Masterpiece Theatre III' by Marianas Trench which i somehow think will suit later chapters - but until then, think of it as a spoiler *Listen to the lyrics :)* and then there was the Crawling RMX by Linkin Park *sorta an orchestral version...sorta :D*

**Disclaimer:** katekyo Hitman Reborn and its characters do not belong to me (ahem, I WISH they did...). They belong to their inspiring creator Akira Amono(Who I'm sure will not be too pleased by what I'm going to put these two epic characters through :D). Yes, I _have _borrowed them without permission, but with great respect and affection. This story is for entertainment purposes only; no money is being made from it.

Now that I've finally finsihed my inane babbling, we can get on with the story =3 However, if you haven't already and have just scrolled down because of the shock of so much writing, PLEASE READ IT ALL! It may be a pain, but I don't want any hate letters please =) Thank you!

* * *

"_Don't walk out on me when I can't follow"_

**Chapter One: Modesty is Key**

Who would have thought that the night sky could be so alluring? Gokudera knelt on his bed in a bored but comfortable manor, resting his chin on his fist, elbow supported on the window frame, eyes cast heaven-ward.

_Wonder when that baseball nut is gonna come bounding in._

The thought had been flitting through the Storm Guardian's mind for a few hours as he had scoured his room for something to occupy his time. Homework and assignments had taken far less time than he had anticipated, and dinner with Tsuna's mother had been wonderful, but too fast and awkward. As much as the tenth's hospitality was appreciated, the Italian assassin couldn't relax.

Except when around that retarded sport freak - Honestly, where was the logic? It was accounted for that you had to be on guard when in the presence of your boss, but at the _dinner table_? Was his anxiety really _that _necessary?

Gokudera sighed and bonked his forehead against the glass, closing his eyes. His fingers itched to bring out a cigarette and ease his nerves with the cancerous drug, but of course, there were such things as smoke detectors and his room was too small for the fumes to diffuse enough to not set off the alarm.

In other words, he didn't want to be a bother – not to the tenth.

Opening his eyes again, Gokudera gave up on star-gazing, finding each flickering white speck a conundrum. You just didn't know what to do with yourself – were you supposed to be in awe of these balls of helium that blazed over a good million light-years away? Should you reminisce about what life would be like if you managed to find a world that could support intelligent life? Or should you waste your time imagining how many stars there were between yourself and the edge of the universe – which would then lead on to the questions which would arise on the issue of whether the universe _did _end…

The assassin sighed irritably, looking up the bland white ceiling. He was so bored he could have taken up knitting.

There was a sudden cry out from the streets, most probably a group of drunk teenagers not knowing what to do with themselves. Even though there was a rational explanation to the vocal outburst, one which was not too rare in any neighbourhood that housed families, Gokudera felt a shiver as his mind lingered over a raw memory he had no intention of looking back over.

_Don't go there. Ignore it. Don't, DON'T!_

_The whip came down on his bare back again and he cried out despite himself. His fists were clenched so tight he thought his knuckles were going to splinter. His palms were slick with his own blood, but that was a fleeting pain compared to what was going to be done to him._

_There was low laughter and the repulsive stench of booze in the room. He was unable to see whether it was day or night with the windows blacked out, but all that was barely a flitting thought across his mind as he felt the last of his clothing torn off his body._

"_No…" He whimpered pitifully. "Please, just…please…" Tears coursed down his smooth cheeks and he gasped as the men laughed drunkenly, boasting, "Damn, isn't his ass just begging us? I'm so ready I could come right now."_

"_But," A laugh, "You need to prep him or he'll," another hiccup of a laugh, "bleed."_

_Another one belched, "Who said we all had to take him from that end?"_

_There was a horrendous sight displayed to Gokudera's face, an appendage that stood proudly in front of his mouth, weeping lightly, a smug grin plastered across a masked mans face._

"_No," Gokudera whimpered, crying out like an infant as he was brutally violated from both terminals._

With a gasp, Gokudera dragged himself away from the memory. He was coated in a light sheen of sweat and his breaths were coming raggedly, practically tearing themselves from his lungs.

He felt disgusted by how he had been used like that and turned onto his side, curling into a small ball, eyes squeezed tight, teeth bared and clenched, muttering in Italian.

_Yamamoto, please come back…please hurry._

He couldn't control the trembling of his body and was shocked into stillness as the door to his room was flung open, a very familiar presence filling the otherwise chilled atmosphere.

"Hey Hayato, I'm back-" Yamamoto called to the Italian as he dropped his sports bag down by the door. Gokudera could imagine that easy-going grin that Yamamoto managed to pull off with such ease and forced himself not to move. He ached to roll off of his ass and bound towards the Rain Guardian and hold on to him with as much strength as he could muster. The burning itch to bind himself to reality through the Japanese teen almost over-come the bomber, but he managed to keep a hold of his control.

Until of course, the baseball nut caught on to his stiffness –damn Yamamoto and his instincts.

"Oi, Hayato, are you alright there? You haven't moved a muscle since I arrived…"

Gokudera remained still, eyes staring blankly at the wall, arm tucked under his head, the other slung across his side, fist clenched. He gnawed on his lower lip to stop himself from making a sound.

"Hey, I'm talking to you-" Yamamoto huffed and in an instant, he was hovering over the Italian boy like a rain cloud, amber eyes concerned.

He smiled tentatively at Gokudera, one of his hands brushing his silver hair away from his face where it had fallen over his eyes, "Is something the matter Gokudera?"

Oh great. The use of his last name always meant the swordsman was being serious now – he was seriously concerned and wouldn't leave until Gokudera had given him a response.

"It's nothing alright?" Gokudera growled, switching on his customary scowl.

Yamamoto sighed, relieved that he'd at least gotten a response from the boy, "Honestly, I_ am _sorry I'm late alright? I didn't try to make you wait."

Gokudera just continued to fix his steely gaze on the wall. Yamamoto wasn't having a single morsel of it though and got a firm grip of Gokudera's wrist, hoisting him up.

"Oi, you moron, what're you doin'?" Gokudera snarled, but it was only half-hearted. His chest quaked as his eyes met those of his lover, their steady gaze drinking him. He sighed and hung his head, ashamed of his temper. Hadn't just spent a good hour and a half killing time, waiting for this boy to return?

Yamamoto nuzzled Gokudera's neck sensually, his free hand pushing the assassin back into the wall as he pinned him down, wrists held in his hands.

Gokudera felt himself flush immediately and looked away to the side, "seriously, Takeshi, you're mood swings are gonna give me whiplash soon."

Yamamoto laughed lightly and Gokudera didn't need to look at the Rain Guardian to tell he had his mouth turned lopsided in that crooked grin, eyebrows raised incredulously.

"You're actually accusing _me, _the most care-free of guys, of ferocious mood-swings?" He nuzzled Gokudera's neck again, lips moving across his collarbone with excruciating care. He moaned as Yamamoto inched his body closer, relishing in how his world was overcome by this boys essence. The fresh smell of shampoo told him that Yamamoto had caught a shower before coming back from training and in turn, began to nuzzle the guy's neck, mimicking the Rain Guardian's moves with his own.

In the back of his mind, Gokudera felt the echo of the memory he had been swallowed by earlier re-surface, that resounding wail of his younger self under the control and at the mercy of those dirt bags and drew away from Yamamoto like he'd been repelled by a magnetic force. His nose shrivelled up in disgust, but in himself, not directed towards to Yamamoto.

The baseball fanatic didn't take it that way though. He dropped his hands from where he was still holding the bomber's phantom wrists against the wall, head hanging, with his eyes shadowed. There was a sad smile playing on the corners of those seductive lips of his and he muttered, "I shouldn't have forced you like that. Sorry Hayato."

He began to step off of Gokudera's bed and make his way over to his own at the other end of the room when Gokudera practically fell off the bed, gripping Yamamoto's shirt with all his might.

Now it was Gokudera's turn to have his face hidden under his silver waterfall of hair, eyes cast downwards at the floor, tears threatening to leak out from his tightly shut eyes.

"Please, Takeshi, I'm sorry – just – just don't leave. Stay." He kicked himself internally for how his voice shook, but Yamamoto caught on to how something was very definitely wrong here with his Italian lover and knelt down, taking his face gently in his hands. Yamamoto drew his brows together as those clear eyes peered into Gokudera's green ones, searching for that shadowed secret he refused to ever let the swordsman know.

He couldn't look too deep. He couldn't find that memory – don't let him see it. Don't let him know how tainted and repulsive and abused you are.

Defeated by the sudden walls Gokudera threw up in an attempt to hide how much he was struggling behind his tough-guy façade, Yamamoto took him in his arms silently, gripping the bomber's shirt tightly, as though if he didn't, Gokudera may just float away into space.

Gokudera mimicked the motion, burrowing his face in the boy's shoulder, comforted by how it fit in the hollow of his neck perfectly. He kept his eyes shut as tightly as he could whilst he mentally battled for control over what he would much rather have forgotten.

Once the screams had faded to a dull roar in the furthest depths of his thoughts, Gokudera retracted from Yamamoto's side, pressing his lips to Yamamoto's, and responded instantaneously when his lover flinched. Only then did he notice the iron tang to their kiss and pulled back, his famous scowl back in place.

His eyes focused on the small cut on Yamamoto's lip and when his eyes went up to meet his, Gokudera was suddenly thrown off kilter by how tired his lover suddenly looked.

"Hey, Takeshi, what's the matter?" He felt retarded for having been so conceited and focused on his own issues. He hadn't even noticed how drained Yamamoto had looked even with that easy going smile still playing on his lips, despite his busted lip.

"It's nothing, honestly Hayato. I'm more concerned about you-" Yamamoto began to dodge the question but Gokudera wasn't having any of it and leant closer to his lover, like a prowling cat, enough to make even Uri proud. His face was barely an inch from Yamamoto's and he felt intoxicated by how he felt the swordsman's breath on his face.

He shook himself internally – _Control Gokudera. Honestly, you retard._

"Don't ignore my question Takeshi. What's happened to you? I thought you were training with Squalo. What went wrong?"

Gokudera was far more used to Yamamoto returning from practice with Squalo banged up than he would ever like, but it came with the package of being a Vongola Guardian, and both had become accustomed to both licking their own wounds and tending to each others. Though Yamamoto didn't look too beaten up, it didn't take a psychic to tell his pride had been stamped on till it was less than dust.

"Shut up and kiss me damnit," The Rain Guardian replied and forced his soft lips onto Gokudera's, his hot mouth easing Gokudera's open. His skilled tongue met Gokudera's with ease, running it over his, making his thoughts haze and muddle into one muddled, very much occupied jumble of sensations.

Yamamoto sucked on Gokudera's tongue hungrily, his hand curling around the Italian's head, gripping his shaggy silver hair possessively, drawing him closer so he could push his tongue in deeper.

Gokudera moaned into their kiss, his hands drawn around Yamamoto's back like a vice, pressing his chest up against Yamamoto's.

Minutes past unnoticed as the two explored each others mouths with familiar ease, where if one of them retracted, the other seeked entrance to the other's hot steamy mouth, and thus, the hot make-out session continued before they drew away, breathless.

"Damn, gotta remember to breathe through the nose," Yamamoto joked, but his eyes still seemed troubled. He hadn't said anything about what had happened at training, and Gokudera knew better than to pry. Instead, he stayed sat on the carpet while Yamamoto got to his feet and slouched lazily over to his bed, pulling his t-shirt over his head whilst he walked.

Just the sight before him – a fairly mundane scene – was enough to make Gokudera's ear flush slightly as he took in Yamamoto's toned biceps and how his back muscles worked so effortlessly under that tight undershirt.

Which Gokudera only noticed was slowly being stained with blood once Yamamoto had stripped down into boxers.

"Shit Yamamoto, you're bleeding!" Gokudera noticed.

Yamamoto started, and looked down to his chest to see a slowly spreading red diagonal line. It was only then that the pain seemed to register with the swordsman and his legs buckled under the immense jarring pain.

Damn, how had he made it home without noticing this?

The details mattered little to Gokudera who hunted around their desk draws to find their very much overused first aid kit.

"C'mere you masochistic retard," Gokudera spoke the command in an endearing way that only Yamamoto could recognise. To anybody else the tone was read as cranky and most would go speeding away in the opposite direction.

Yamamoto nestled himself in front of Gokudera, his legs spread for ease of access as Gokudera inched closer, flicking the latch of the first aid kit. While his hand hunted around for the bandages and disinfectant, the two found their eyes couldn't break apart.

Yamamoto gave the Italian assassin his rare, affectionate smile reserved only for him and Gokudera returned it with his own strangely warm smirk. If ever a smirk could be considered as 'affectionate' then Gokudera certainly was the only one who could pull it off.

"Hold still – you already know this is gonna hurt." Gokudera was none to careful as he splashed on the disinfectant, and he saw Yamamoto hiss and flinch, the wound reddening.

"Yikes, you sure are rough," Yamamoto noticed unnecessarily while the silver-haired boy expertly wrapped a white bandage around his chest.

"Serves you right for being so careless," Gokudera muttered.

He more sensed than saw Yamamoto sigh, accustomed to Gokudera's foul moods and absent-mindedly fiddled with a lock of his silver hair.

"Oi, don't move I said," Gokudera snapped, trying to pin the bandage down with a safety pin.

With the pin finally snapped shut, Gokudera shut the medic-kit and had just slid the desk drawer closed when Yamamoto spoke, all regular humour washed out of his voice, his back to the Storm Guardian.

"I can't choose."

Gokudera sighed this time, folding his arms and leant against the ledge of the desk, "Why not? What do you have to choose between?"

Yamamoto's toned shoulders hunched and he imagined him cupping his head in one hand, eyes slowly dimming as he sank into uncertainty.

It looked like even the most straightforward of people had bad days.

"It's my choice – the sword or baseball. Squalo refuses to continue training me unless I choose."

Now Gokudera understood.

"Well, I suppose it depends on where your loyalty lies." He shrugged, as if the key component in this choice was that easy.

Yamamoto spun his head around, weary of his bandaged chest, "What?"

Gokudera rubbed the inner parts of his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose, a habit he'd had since he'd been small. And indicator that he was losing his patience.

"I mean, do you owe your loyalty towards Tenth and your father for having taught you those skills, or to your old life where your only passion in life was what gave you your retarded nickname?"

Yamamoto grimaced and took his head in his hands again, this time falling back so he was on his back, palms over his eyes. He breathed in deeply, chest rising, holding it.

"Damnit…" he hissed.

Although Gokudera did feel for his lover, he felt relieved that he could focus on such a simple issue as this, able to pull away from that awful memory that kept on haunting him.

He walked over to the still Guardian and knelt down, hitching a leg over his body so he was straddling the swordsman.

"Shall I show you what you'll miss if you don't choose us?"

His voice had taken on a possessive, husky tone, and he shuddered at the response Yamamoto gave him as he ran his tongue over the Guardian's neck. He stopped just where he felt his pulse beating steadily and sucked on the sensitive spot, pressing himself closer when Yamamoto's breath hitched.

Yamamoto chuckled, his prior concerns washing away like they would in a storm – how ironic. His hands curled around Gokudera's back, fingers slipping under his shirt. He ran them over his lover's smooth skin greedily, pressing his body closer before he hungrily tore off his shirt.

"In a rush are we?" Gokudera knew the question was rhetorical though, and while still straddling Yamamoto, let his hand move down to his belt buckle, moaning at how close he and Yamamoto were, the way their hips ground together and with skilled fingers, both unclasped his belt and unzipped his pants.

Yamamoto then took over whilst he claimed Gokudera's mouth, tongue ravaging his while he hooked his thumbs over Gokudera's belt, swiftly tugging his pants down and off.

Free of the extra friction and clothed now only in boxers, the two moved together in perfect synchronisation, mouths moving together expertly like two joint entities.

Yamamoto stiffened imperceptibly as he rubbed his body up across Gokudera's, his lips parting slightly as he inhaled a little too sharply.

Gokudera felt his thoughts sink into a most welcome haze of desire and burning need and made no attempt to hide it as he began to stroke the sensitive are just between Yamamoto's hips. Yamamoto groaned into their kiss, tongue pushing down on Gokudera's in the same way Gokudera was on his thigh now.

Gokudera's warm, intimate caress on Yamamoto's leg caused a jolt of intense fire to ripple through him. His heart thudded in his chest.

Aroused tingles began to radiate from the two, the epicentre at Gokudera's hand which continued to stroke the firm muscle until it made its way to the hardening bulge that lay under the thin fabric of Yamamoto's boxers.

Slowly, Gokudera made his long fingers stretch out and lightly tracing the outline of the hardness they had found. Yamamoto moaned, burning with how aroused he felt now, bucking his hips slightly so Gokudera could cup his manhood more firmly. If only he would pull off his boxers, then he could _really _let himself go.

Yamamoto felt his heart rate lurch uncontrollably while Gokudera tenderly caressed his hip bones and then moved away teasingly.

Gokudera's fingers gripped Yamamoto's biceps, and he wasn't sure if he wanted to push his lover away or pull him closer.

It had been practically a century since Yamamoto had so easily _let himself go_... too long... and his whole body ached for the Rain Guardian. Of course, with all the training, these moments then meant more to the two Guardians.

"Fuck!" Yamamoto accidentally said aloud, his arousal flaring as Gokudera shifted his hips.

Gokudera spoke seductively by his ear, "I thought I was already…"

"Lusty arrogant bastard…" Yamamoto moaned, his hands shooting out to grip Gokudera's annoyingly still clothed rear.

In response to this, Gokudera's knee slid itself between Yamamoto's thighs, moving up and down in excruciating slow motions that sent sparks of electricity sizzling through Yamamoto's blood. Gokudera then rubbed his chest up against Yamamoto's their smooth skin creating almost no friction had it not been for their warm, toned muscles.

All of Gokudera's ministrations were being painfully suggestive and Yamamoto could only groan and buck his aching hips longingly for the release he knew the Italian bomber could give him with his sensual rhythmic motions.

He practically cried out with pleasure when the devilish Guardian's hard thigh rubbed his crotch with seductive urgency.

Then, shattering the heightened sexual atmosphere between the two of them, Gokudera felt that all too unwelcome scream from the back of his mind break free of his mental chains. It shook through him worse than the largest of earthquakes and shook him like a rag doll.

With a sudden jolt, all of his sexual desire was bled dry of him and he practically threw himself away from his lover, back jarred as he hit their coffee table.

Yamamoto groaned, annoyed at how he had come so close to climaxing only to have it taken away from him, and sat up, ready to voice his complaints.

Until he saw Gokudera's face.

Any arousal he might have had left, down in _that _area or anywhere else, went limp immediately. Within seconds, he was crouched by Gokudera, whose eyes hadn't moved since he'd hit the table.

They were wide and unseeing, just vacant in the scene before him. It was obvious that he had been shocked by _something. _Yamamoto whispered his name, "Hayato?" as quietly as he could, knowing that sometimes it would shake him out of whatever vice his mental state had gotten him into.

Instead, Gokudera's eyes filled with tears which poured uncontrollably down his face. He screamed at the top of his lungs for a brief moment, a moment that made Yamamoto recoil in instinctive fear, before curling in on himself, hugging his knees, head burrowed between his chest and legs. He rocked back and forth slowly, whimpering like a child.

Yamamoto had no idea what to do. His instincts _had_ been right – that outburst had been like a small fragment of Gokudera's mind just splintering, like a hairline crack in a vase that could make the entire thing smash to pieces at any time if left unnoticed. Amazing what you could learn as a swordsman when reading other people, but right then, all he could draw his attention to was the bed that Gokudera had been staring at before he had lost control.

He looked over. All _he _could see was Gokudera's bed – a white mattress, unsuspecting black duvet, a black pillow and a white sheet. Nothing too conspicuous…so what had made the boy scream out as he had?

_Go away, _Gokudera thought while Yamamoto fussed in silence. _Stop it! _

His pleas were directed at the sight he saw before him – the unbearably indecent act that was being carried out on his bed.

His younger self, being brutally violated by those countless men, all whose faces were obscured by fiery masks.

He cringed at the sound of his tortured self as he was raped in the most disgusting of ways, from every possible opening he had.

_Don't let me see this! Not again! Please, please, please just stop it!_

With one final cry of agony towards his own humiliated past and dirtied self, he collapsed into Yamamoto's arms, whimpering all the while, tears running shamelessly down his face.

Just as he felt a swarming pit of darkness rear up to engulf him, Yamamoto's voice broke through the pained silence.

"_Hayato!_"

But his efforts were wasted. Gokudera had passed out, from shock at what he had seen, or from the stress of it all. Either way, Yamamoto was left stunned; his lover's body limp in his arms. At least he was breathing, but knowing his character, if he asked Gokudera what had happened, he would clam up faster than an oyster.

His only option was to wait for morning and then at least attempt to wring the information out of the Storm Guardian, but until then -

What the fuck was going on?


	2. Unknown Soldier

A/N:_ I'm sorry to have left you with half a lemon in the first chapter ): -shot- but I promise future citrusy scenes between Gokudera and Yamamoto *forgive me if it ever seems a little disconnected. I _am _only fifteen, so I'm not exactly _experienced _but I'll do my best :D –aww shucks, now I feel embarrassed XD-*_

_Just a note, my skills in fighting scenes are atrocious *shot again by both Gokudera and Hibari* I know it lacks a little chutzpah but bear with me…there will be quite a few more fighting scenes, and lemon scenes ;D *save me please…I can't do fights T.T* Ugh, I wonder when the angst will begin to settle in XD *Emo at heart is what I am :)*_

**Chapter Two – Unknown Soldier**

"_I never thought I'd feel this_

_Guilty and I'm broken inside_

_Livin' with myself nothing but lies"_

-Three Days Grace – World So Cold

_His heels dug into the mattress desperately... even the cotton sheets were too slippery to give him any sort of grip. His head seized up in pain when it knocked itself against the headboard. His vision blurred for a moment before refocusing. The graze meant little compared to what he was enduring. _

_His attempts to hold his tongue, to not let his scream rip itself out of his ribcage, burned in his chest, a beast clawing through his ribs to get out. _

_Agony - It was cold, which seemed to suit the word perfectly. It washed over him like a blizzard of numbness, chilling his skin and hardening his core. _

_There was a crushing sense of disgrace - For both himself and his family's name._

_Countless unwanted emotions swarmed in his muscles, coursed through his veins, pulsed in his temples, reminding him of his utter despair and inability to escape from this hell he had been forced into._

No, you weren't forced. You were just too stupid to know that the world isn't as pretty as it seems.

_The thought had a bite to it, but he knew it was right. He _had _gotten himself into this because of his own stupidity. It was his own fault, so _his_ pain to endure._

_Blood ran down his numb arms from his shackled wrists but he couldn't break the cuffs. Strong hands dug into his shoulders, pinning him down, straining his already mangled wrists. _

_A moan... no, a _whimper_…was it his own? Was that hoarse, frightened mockery of a sound really _his_ voice? So much for control._

_There was a rhythmic, stiff, brutal movement given to him by the heavy body on top of him, robbing all thoughts from him. The gnawing scream escaped in a gush from his raw, tortured lungs._

_There was nothing financial to gain from this torture. Surely no fame or triumph could be gained from an act such as this. There was no lack of control here like there would be if under the pressure of a bet, there was no loss of composure, just deliberate, excruciating sadism and the glory of being in command of someone weaker. _

_The sound of someone sobbing in the darkly lit room echoed around him, distorted in a way that he couldn't understand if it was coming from him._

_A far away scream – _

_Images of his mother's mangled body and her modest, white coffin buried with such secrecy it was a wonder the world didn't hold its breath as she swallowed by the earth. _

_With no protection he had become easy prey to the vultures of this world. He had become one of the weak, pathetic creatures you knew wouldn't survive throughout the winter, a lone cub in the desert planes – easy pickings if you were frank about the matter._

_Another cry that echoed around him, reverberating in his ears – From what he could see – shifting his focus from the disgusting sight before him – there wasn't anyone else his own age or younger in the room to make such a sound._

_No...It couldn't be…he couldn't possibly have it in him to make that pitiful, broken sound. To sound so powerless and weak, it nearly hurt more than his body as it was abused._

_He convulsed at the hot breath on his neck._

No. Enough is enough. Dreams are all they are – this is too vivid to be a dream, or even a nightmare.

_He tried to backpedal away from the putrid room and its rotting memories that clung to it, but there wasn't any grip below his feet, and instead all he managed to achieve was a sudden freefall._

_The screams escalated, burning his skin. He covered his ears and curled inwards. The sounds were harsh and nearly inhuman in their intensity, clawing at his skull and the sensitive parts of his brain._

_He felt his lungs struggle to take in oxygen, aching in the process. This was worse than suffocation. He both felt the pressure that came with drowning, that overwhelming sense of despair that rode along with it, the panic when you no longer knew where the surface was, clawing at your stomach till it was raw and then there was that scorched feeling that seemed to be filling his lungs. Any cry he would try to make was engulfed by his oxygen starved lungs._

_No matter how hard he tried to flee, to move in any way, he just twitched before shuddering. His hands were numb, legs immobile._

_The sense of falling stopped abruptly, and when he turned to look, he threw his numb hands over his eyes, buckling at the horrid images._

_The boy on the bed had stopped struggling now, accepting the cruelty that would soon be given to him. He was still screaming in pain, but it was those eyes that frightened him the most. They were empty – void of all life, barely a shadow of the soul he knew he had managed to regain._

_How had he come back from this? How had he clawed his way back to reality when _this _had happened? What kind of will had he possessed?_

_The scene darkened suddenly, and he was plunged back into the labyrinth that had become his dream world. There was an onslaught of whimpering that somehow managing to be even more disturbing than the screams from the bed scene. _

_He came across a make-shift window – one that you would find in any ordinary home. Its panes were white, contrast to the blacked out glass. The glass reverberated with each howl that boomed from behind it. Beside the window was a door, an enormous oak one. Almost every inch of it was chained, seeming impenetrable, but the lock on it was rusty, old, and near breaking._

_The sounds from the other side were becoming louder, digging into him deeper. Fire was racing through him again, scorching his veins. _

_He threw himself at the door, grunting at its heaviness. The wood shook as the person on the other side tried to force it open. The chains rattled, looking much weaker than they had before. _

No, it can't open up, _he pleaded. _I locked away so I could move on. I did not ask to remember it this vividly! Leave me alone – l shouldn't have to endure this!

_His body was still burning, hungry. Why hungry though? Was he actually _thirsting _for what was on the other side? Had he really become a sadist? Or just some savage of a human being?_

_A fire tore into him suddenly, making his head swim among the flames._

_The flames danced around him, mesmerizing, devouring his skin, eating away at all he was, body as well as the empty space that made him what he was. 'Soul' didn't seem to fit quite perfectly, but it was as close as he could come. He welcomed the pain, relaying it to his various accidents when practising with his dynamite._

_He fell back into the embrace of the blaze in relief, letting it carry him in its fiery currents, away from the window and its chained door. It swept him away like a hot breeze in the summer and he felt his body relax._

_Burn... burn... burn it all away... leave nothing behind...burn so much of my existence that I cease to be what I am. Scorch time…let it be so that I'm frozen, kept in a limbo, held away from the future, but hidden from the past._

_Just as he felt his wish begin to slowly fulfil itself, he felt a lurch and was shot away from the flames in the direction of an equally bright light. A beacon._

Gokudera awoke with a small, strangled cry. His skin was searing hot and his sheets were tangled lightly around his legs, duvet discarded most probably on the floor.

His body was jerking, flooded with the remnants of those seductive flames.

He sucked his breath in, unable to breathe properly for a moment as the muddled, intense release of cold reality bit through his warm sleep-encased body, worse than being thrown into an icy lake. The sudden awareness was on a par with the rough jolts that dragged him from his sleep. His eyes snapped open.

_What the hell...? _

Somebody was shaking him roughly. He looked up into a pair of luminous amber eyes peering down at him, cloaked in concern.

Gokudera struggled to turn away, wanting to shake off the strange body with its strong grip.

He started when he felt a warm body close to his on the bed. Scorching white hot panic speared through the Storm Guardian. He recoiled as much as he could into the wall, struggling to untangle himself. His efforts were wasted though, his legs were locked up in the sheets and with... _someone else's legs._

"Whoa, _whoa_, hey... it's me... relax, you're just dreaming, Hayato..." a soft, sleepy yet slowly sharpening, familiar voice penetrated through Gokudera's trembling haze of panic.

Oh so slowly, he began to thoroughly inspect the body by his side and smacked himself internally. He'd actually considered Yamamoto to be one of those lower than scum that had been locked away in his own memories.

He was more broken than he thought – strange that he hadn't pierced through Yamamoto yet, what with all the jagged edges that seemed to have made up what Gokudera had become.

Yamamoto was lying beside him, resting up on one elbow now as he rubbed his eyes. His other arm was still clutching Gokudera's, but with less urgency.

The swordsman's tousled black hair was wildly mussed from the pillow and sticking up at endearing angles. His amber eyes were a little questioning. Usually if Gokudera was waking up from a nightmare, he tried to attack Yamamoto. But this time Gokudera had tried to _pull away_ from him. Was this an improvement? Or just a different kind of dream? Yamamoto wasn't sure and his sleepy brain wasn't really processing at its swiftest.

"Y'alright?" He yawned the question, "Y'were tossin' and-" another yawn, "makin' strange sounds..."

Gokudera felt the icy depths of his gut melt under the Rain Guardian's calm aura, how his eyes were clouded only by concern and the remnants of whatever dreams he had been having.

So unlike the eyes that he had had to endure in his childhood – eyes that always held an alternative motive. Such clarity was always a welcome relief for the Italian and he sank gratefully into Yamamoto, relishing in his warm, comforting scent.

Yamamoto smiled at his lover adoringly, a rare sight, even for the easy going teen. His hand on Gokudera's arm slid up to brush the bomber's strangely flushed cheek.

"Sure you're alright?" he mumbled, coaxing his own body to make that last step to finally wake up entirely.

Gokudera closed his eyes, trying to slow his wild breathing and heart.

"Not... really...just a fucked up dream..." he murmured softly, his voice a bit husky from sleep. He instantly regretted it. He didn't want to pique Yamamoto's curiosity or make him think anything was wrong. He reasoned it with how everyone had wacky dreams every once in a while, but with the stunt he had pulled earlier, Gokudera was fully aware of what Yamamoto would think of his dreams.

Gokudera couldn't speak about this dream with anyone, especially Yamamoto... heck, he didn't even feel confident in confiding in _himself, _much less another person.

With conscious effort, Gokudera's tense body relaxed and he rolled onto his side, facing Yamamoto. He begged with his eyes for the swordsman to just keep his mouth shut and not ask any intrusive questions.

To Gokudera's mercy, Yamamoto wasn't in the most perceptive of states and instead only just managed to wriggle his way out of bed – how they'd come to sleep in the same bed was beyond Gokudera, though it wasn't unusual – without stumbling.

"I didn't shake you awake for nothin' you know," Yamamoto flashed him his easy grin, running a hand through his hair while drinking in the delightful scene before him. If it wasn't so late, he wouldn't be able to resist diving back into that bed, especially if Gokudera was there. Instead, he began to forage for scraps of his uniform, yawning all the while.

Now it was Gokudera's turn to prop himself up on one elbow. He enjoyed watching the Rain Guardian saunter around in only his boxers, marvelling at his sculpted figure and rippling muscles under his creamy skin. His tense muscles relaxed gratefully, eager to push away the looming darkness and instead focus on this tempting beacon of light.

If only he could untangle himself from these sheets to claim that boy. How easy it would be. He could feel the ghost of Yamamoto's lips on his own and couldn't resist the flush that coloured his cheeks and ears. He ruffled his own silver hair and slowly lay back down, too worn out to try and crawl out of bed.

"Oi, c'mon Hayato," Yamamoto called as he opened up the door to their own shower room, just across the hall to their room.

Gokudera graced him with an irritated groan and rolled over, letting his mind wander for a few moments.

Since Tsuna had been given a hefty wad of cash – or as Reborn liked to put it 'had inherited a considerate fortune' which were big words for an infant – they had bought a second house, around the same size as Tsuna's, so as not be too conspicuous. Reborn had initiated all of this of course. This house was supposedly a back-up dare anything happen to Tsuna's house. It was known as 'Haven' though Haru had swooned over the name 'Sanctuary'. All had agreed the term was a little too religious and cheesy for their liking. So 'Haven' it was.

It housed only three tenants – Bianchi, whose previous housing remained unknown, a fact Gokudera never liked to dwell to long on – and then there was Gokudera himself along with Yamamoto. Since his father had passed away, barely after he had taught his son the art of the Shigure Souen style. It had taken a heavy toll on Yamamoto, but he had learnt from the loss and come to treasure his life like it was a precious jewel. It was a skill Gokudera envied him for possessing.

Bianchi had become aware of their relationship fairly quickly and it nearly embarrassed the two of them to think their affection for each other was so obvious. Expecting a lecture, Bianchi instead gave them her blessing, leaving them instead with the harsh warning though that is they became too rowdy, she would make sure she made a spectacle of it and pack up to go and live with Tsuna. Such wouldn't be the case though. The house was arranged in a way that it was in quarters of a sort, so it would take both a broken bomb and one of Gokudera's cherry bombs to even alert Bianchi of their presence.

The house was barely two streets away from Tsuna's, so like last night when Yamamoto was late from baseball training, Gokudera would often pop around to Tsuna's for dinner. He was always greeted with welcoming arms, with a warm atmosphere he craved for. Though he did have Bianchi, Gokudera couldn't help but feel, especially as he heard the shower hum to life across the hall. He had to admit, considering they _did _have two rooms in their quarters fit to be bedrooms, the two had settled for sharing one and merging the other into their own personal common room, saving the one downstairs as a communal living area.

Even with two beds, there was still plenty of space for two desks, two identical wardrobes, an enormous bookshelf, a coffee table and couch. Even with all the furnishing, there was still plenty of space to manoeuvre. All in all, not a bad space for the two of them. They'd made it their own and Gokudera felt most at peace in this room, glad to not have to sleep in a room that had been decorated and set in mind for some anonymous tenant.

Somewhere in the back of his mind he thought he heard Yamamoto call out to him to hurry up. Only then did he pay attention to the time displayed on his clock.

"Shit!" Gokudera swore, leaping out of bed and charging into the shower room where he heard Yamamoto laughing at his outburst.

"Shut up you baseball nut," he snapped but there was less bite in it than usual, and instead he busied himself with washing his body, splashing a good dollop of shampoo over his hair.

"Listen," Yamamoto asked above the hiss of the shower, "You sorta just collapsed. I was wondering-"

Gokudera flushed, glad the water was hot, "I'm fine. Don't worry. I was just stressed is all."

Yamamoto sensed the Storm Guardian didn't want to discuss it any further and left him to it, but his unanswered questions continued to bother him. _Another time, _He consoled himself while he washed beside his lover, _when he isn't so distracted I'll get him to tell me._

The two emerged barely five minutes later, both slightly disappointed their incident in the shower hadn't led onto anything too erotic but were too focused on the time they were wasting.

Both flew out of the door at a gale speed, racing each other to Namimori high.

_Please, _they thought unanimously,

_please may Hibari be sick or something today. Please!_

_

* * *

_

The two boys practically fell over each other as they made it to Namimori high bare moments before the mocking dull tone of the morning bell chimed.

Yamamoto leant against Gokudera's shoulder dramatically, breathing heavily, "Oh yeah, new world record."

Gokudera sighed, "Tch, only _you _would think of making a world record out of something like us running to school."

Yamamoto laughed bashfully, clonking him on the shoulder as he made his way towards the school doors, weaving through the throng of students with ease, "But that's what makes it all the more fun."

Just as Yamamoto had disappeared through the crowd of students that were cramming their way through the halls, Gokudera felt his prior enthusiasm leak out of him. Sure, he loved Yamamoto's enthusiasm when it came to school and all that, but with his marks, he was pretty certain he could bunk off without getting into too much trouble.

Making a dash for it, he lithely threw himself around a corner and waited for the mass of students to filter away into their classes before making a dash for the exit. He wouldn't leave the grounds so much as just go and sit by a tree by the baseball court or something. There were dozens of secluded spots at Namimori high, some of which Gokudera thought even Hibari wouldn't know of.

He set off for the one just off the baseball field, keeping as low a profile as was possible, relishing in the calm release he felt when he took a drag on his near constant supply of cigarettes. It had become a habit since he had escaped from…it didn't matter how it had started, but it seemed to have become handy when it came to a fight that involved his dynamite.

Once settled under one of the grand oaks by the field, and content that he was out of eyesight, Gokudera was about to let his mind wander for the next two hours before making another attempt at classes before his calm environment was crudely broken.

By a certain irritating, carnivorous prefect.

"Unless you're deaf, I'm rather certain you heard the school bell go off for class Gokudera Hayato," The matter-of-fact tone Hibari had irked Gokudera and all he could do to contain his anger was pinch his nose and glare at the prefect. Thank God, his tonfa's were gone, but heaven knew where he kept them stowed. He shuddered at the thought.

"And unless you're blind, I'm bunking," The Bomber had always felt the most satisfaction through taunting the prefect, enjoying the way his left eye would twitch at his snarky remarks.

"I suggest you make your way to class. If you don't comply, I _will _bite you to death." Within a flash, his tonfa's were out, poised, gleaming in the sunlight.

Gokudera got to his feet slowly, baring his teeth in his trade-mark snarl. He brought out six sticks of dynamite and was ready to light then with his cigarette at any given moment. He could feel eight cherry bombs latched on to both his thick belt and hidden in his trousers, as insurance if the fight got serious.

"Bring it bird lover," He goaded.

He relished in the twitch of Hibari's left eye as he lunged for Gokudera, tonfa's swinging expertly. Weapon-wise they were near faultless, except for one flaw. They were practically useless if your opponent was behind you. Yes, they _could _be thrown backwards, but there was only so much distance they could travel.

Gokudera side-stepped out of the way, the tonfa's whooshing right by where his body had been merely moments ago. He was eager to rid himself of the tension that had built up throughout the night and threw himself into the fight with more enthusiasm than he expected.

_I'm gonna beat you this time Hibari. This time I won't lose. Your ass is mine._

* * *

Barely four and a half minutes in and Gokudera was on his knees, face bloodied and sore. His knees felt weak and boneless, void of any of the strength they had had when the fight had begun.

Hibari, of course, stood as proud as an alpha male, gazing down cruelly at the weaker wolf. There were a few torn down trees from their fight and it infuriated Gokudera to know that every perfectly aimed bomb Hibari had managed to dodge.

"I have no interest in fighting you any longer. You either get up and go to class or leave for the day. The choice is yours now that you have a reason for missing class. Herbivores like yourself don't deserve my attention."

His tone was mocking in its own patronising way and Gokudera felt his expression darken angrily because of it. The bastard - His only reason for even engaging with him had been so that he would then be able to leave school for the day with a reason. His best guess was that Hibari refused to have bunkers on his flawless record. Beaten up bunkers at least had an excuse for leaving school, but those who just skived, that was a no-no.

The bomber rose to his feet unsteadily, spitting blood onto the ground to his right. He fixed the prefect with as furious a glare as he could muster and stormed off towards the school gates, not caring whether he was seen or not. He swore, lest he ever saw that son of a bitch again, he would bomb his ass off.

* * *

While in class, Yamamoto busied himself with tuning out to the teacher and instead focused on an all too recognisable figure sauntering out of the school grounds, a dark figure stalking behind him, seeing him out.

_Oh Gokudera, _Yamamoto sighed internally, _what did you get yourself into this time? _

* * *

Having spent most of the day meandering around the school's perimeter, only leaving for lunch or when he got bored of the accusing stares of locals, did Gokudera actually just decide to make his way home. He had grown bored of waiting around for both Yamamoto and even though he would have waited days for the tenth, he felt too humiliated to face anyone right now.

He walked past all the local stores mindlessly, wishing there was a more direct route home that didn't require passing through such a populated area. He glared at whoever dared speak a word about his appearance and stalked onwards, head down, cigarette clenched between his teeth.

All of a sudden, slicing through the calm mundane atmosphere, Gokudera heard somebody scream.

It was high-pitched but with enough of an underlying tone to be male.

And of course, it was the Tenth's. Only Tsuna had that kind of scream

Gokudera charged towards it at full pelt, his thoughts no longer focused on what the locals thought – fuck that, his boss was in trouble!

Except, this had happened before. He had heard a similar kind of scream before from the tenth and had rushed to his aid only to find him clothed only in boxers in front of Kyoko, Reborn having shot him with the dying-will bullet. Poor Tenth – though effective, Reborn's methods were cruel at the best of times.

As he rounded a corner, Gokudera was glad he had gone on his instincts, an underwear scene or not.

Tsuna was cornered by a bookstore, obviously on his way home. He didn't appear cornered, especially when the person in question looked like nothing more than an ordinary high school nerd – glasses, beanie, crappy hairstyle and all. It was that killer intent he had grown to sense that triggered Gokudera's assassin instinct.

He kept a low profile though, acting as if there was nothing bothering him though. He noticed that it had been a bee in front of his face that had gotten Tsuna's attention and claimed his vocal chords – how typical – but it didn't matter. It seemed that his hyper intuition only worked when in dying-will mode and Gokudera seized the opportunity to save his boss, no matter how ignorant he was.

"Yo, Tsuna!" He called out using the Tenth's first name, a rarity but called for in this situation. Knowing the creepy nerd guy, he would be a part of the mafia, especially with that killer instinct of his. The safest bet would be to act indifferent and to under no circumstances call him 'tenth'. If he alerted anyone of Tsuna's social ranking amongst the mafia, it could spell disaster.

Tsuna whipped his head around to Gokudera, an awkward smile pulling at the corner of his lips.

The beanie guy pushed his glasses up the ridge of his nose as Gokudera swung his arm around Tsuna's shoulders, ready to ignore the nerdy guys total existence and usher the Tenth away discreetly.

"Gokudera Hayato," The beanie clad guy spoke, his voice low and matter-of-fact, "Kokuyou High, 2nd year, Kakimoto Chikusa."

Gokudera was stumped, then realised the guy had just introduced himself. Using his already established bad boy attitude, he scowled, feigning annoyance, "What'dya want four eyes?"

Tsuna froze, more aware of the tension building in Gokudera's grip on his shoulder more than the murderous intent that oozed from Kakimoto Chikusa.

"I came here to break you."

His eyes were blank, void of any malice and Gokudera couldn't help but notice the barcode tattoo on his right cheek. Damn, these thugs just got freakier by the day.

"Sheesh, what's going on these days with my luck? Why do I keep on getting involved with gangsters from other schools?" He looked to Tsuna and grinned as if nothing was wrong, "Do I really look that thuggish?"

Not waiting for Tsuna's reply he waved as the high school student dismissively, "Sorry dude, wrong guy. I don't get into fights."

"So you are a coward then?"

He felt his composure splinter under that insult and his grip on Tsuna's shoulder loosen. By now, Tsuna had caught on to the issue at hand and was ready to legit. He secretly begged Gokudera would just let it go, let his pride take a hit for once in his life and let them leave.

But then again, both he and Yamamoto knew how stubborn the Italian was.

"All right then, you've asked for it. It _is _my principle to never refuse a fight when invited."

Kakimoto Chikusa didn't react facially in any way, "You suddenly change your tact…peculiar. I do warn you, this is no joke."

As if to prove his seriousness, his arm blurred, moving so fast you couldn't track its movement. Within moments, the two men who had been taunting their small gathering with the promise of a fight breaking out fell silent.

Gokudera let his eyes flit over to the two men and his eyes widened at the sight.

Their foreheads were littered with pins that oozed blood. The two men collapsed instantaneously, unmoving. Now his scowl was for real.

"Get back Tsuna," Gokudera warned, still wary of calling him 'Tenth'. He didn't know what this Kakimoto Chikusa guy wanted, but he wanted to keep Tenth as out of it as he could.

"Stop hesitating already. This is troublesome enough."

With the flash of an arm, the guy had thrown whatever weapon he was using in Gokudera's direction. Tsuna had already taken refuge on the opposite end of the street, watching with worried eyes.

Gokudera swerved around the attack, but barely. He felt a searing jolt of hot pain slash across his cheek and the warm trickle of blood as it trailed down his cheek.

"Shit," he muttered, "You're gonna be such a pain in my ass."

Walking towards the guy nonchalantly, he feigned ignorance before turning on his heel and charging away in the opposite direction.

He heard the guy hurry after him, then imagined the all too sweet sound of simultaneous explosions in the space he had just occupied. It had been a technique he had come up with as a child. You act as though you've got nothing when in fact you've moved so fast that you've already got a dozen sticks of dynamite up above you. You then turn tail and run as fast as you can so the enemy can take your place and take the damage. It was beyond flawed, but he considered it an old trick.

He slowed when he didn't hear his bombs explode and turned in time to see that every one of them had been diffused, their fuses cut off with that weird weapon of his.

He ducked behind a corner and watched as closely as he could.

Hold on…wait…no _way…_

A yo-yo? What the fuck?

He had to admit, it was kind of childish, but his condescending thoughts were obliterated as the store beside him blew itself into smithereens.

Gokudera found himself being thrown sideways and felt a very unwelcomed sinking feeling in his stomach.

This wasn't just some pissed off thug or a regular mafia boy – he was a pro.

"Sorry, Kokuyou high you said. Call me senile but, which family is that again?"

His eyes were as expressionless as ever, "Our family means little concerning you. Who are the members of _your _family and who is your boss? Spit it out."

Again, another blur of his arm and this time the Storm Guardian was only just able to dodge the attack while connecting the dots, _that's why he was in this area. He knows the Vongola family live around this area. He's after Tsuna._

If that was the case, his duty came before anything else. He lit up three sticks of dynamite and chucked them at the hitman, cursing when they were diffused yet again by his yo-yo's.

What he didn't notice though, was that this time, both his arms had blurred.

Meaning he had two yo-yo's.

Whilst having managed to dodge one of the needle splinters ejected by the second yo-yo. They ran up his side and arm, and with a howl, Gokudera fell down onto one knee, spitting more blood onto the ground.

Beaten up twice in one day. He could practically feel his pride deflate by the second.

He felt sudden warm hands close around him protectively, and looked up to see Tsuna by his side, bracing himself for the onslaught.

"No Tsuna!" Gokudera called out just as the assassin threw another yo-yo in their direction.

As swiftly as he could, Gokudera swirled around, ignoring the agonising pain in his shoulder and side to protect the Tenth. The hitman still didn't know why Tsuna was and he'd be damned if he was the one to tell him. All he could see was his protecting a friend. Nothing more.

With his back to the hitman, he hissed at the excruciating pain as dozen of miniature needles punctured his skin. The pain nearly overwhelmed every aspect of his sense and the Storm Guardian almost called Tsuna 'Boss' as he begged for him to escape.

He collapsed onto his side and ground his teeth together angrily as the beanie clad hitman stood over him, in much the same manner as Hibari had.

"I have broken you. I'll be taking him," the last part he addressed to Tsuna who practically cringed in horror, "It would be best for you to forget ever seeing this. Speak a word of it and I will not hesitate in annihilating you."

Tsuna's face paled considerably at this but just before he was dragged away, Gokudera hissed urgently to his boss, "Hurry and get home. It'll _rain _soon."

The underlying meaning was clear, even to a moron. _Tell Yamamoto._

Tsuna shook his head and tackled the hitman from the side, barely knocking him. Without Reborn and his dying will bullets or the ring, Tsuna was unable to fight in any way. It was like that with Dino in his men.

"No, Tsuna, don't!" Gokudera rasped against the pain.

The assassin responded promptly with a knee jerk reaction. He kicked Tsuna in the chest, knocking him down onto the ground with ease. Tsuna groaned, earning himself another kick to the ribs. He recoiled, hugging himself, but still reached out for Gokudera, being hit repeatedly before going still.

"Son of a bitch! Tenth!" Gokudera roared, wishing he could move so he would kick the bitch's ass, but the pain was a handicap and his efforts proved fruitless. All he was rewarded for was a punch to the temple that threw him off the edge of consciousness.

_Shit, what have I gotten myself into? _Was the only thing he could remember thinking before he let the silence engulf him a place where he knew the pain wouldn't follow.

_I'm sorry Tenth, Yamamoto..._


	3. Bed of Thorns

_**A/N: **__I'm sorry for all the fighting scenes in this T.T I'll be getting to some really good smexeh parts later ~ I promise *well, I mean heart jerking parts, kay? Bear with me…please :) the boring parts must come before it gets any better. I'm sure most of you were very much bored by the last chapter D: (please don't tell me that though, I like to pretend you don't get bored :D) I'm very, very sorry for this, but the only way for it to progress as I want it to is to follow the plot. T.T _

_And if you want to sort of feel the mood in this particular chapter, try and listen to 'New Medicines' by Dead Poetic or 'Mindfreak' by Criss Angel. You don't have to, but it might help you bear with my awful writing skills :D But at least this chapter has angst in it! *well, its personal angst, but whatever* Nah, I'm kidding. The songs just sort of help add to the mood ;P_

**Chapter Three – Bed of Thorns**

_"These powers bleed your tears_  
_the darkness calls your name_  
_I'm staring down your fears_  
_There's pleasure in this pain_

_Don't think you are alone_  
_'Cause soon I think you'll find_  
_I am the voice you hear_  
_Screaming inside your mind"  
**-**_**Mindfreak by Criss Angel**

Yamamoto walked to the school gates, an uncharacteristic frown drawing his neat eyebrows together. His eyes stared off into the distance, glazed over as he mulled things over in his head. He'd been annoyed to have gotten caught up with school duties and had even lost his maths book. With everyone gone though, and Gokudera nowhere to be seen, he couldn't help but feel that there was somehow something very wrong. He just couldn't put his finger on it.

He was so engrossed in his own mental babblings he practically jumped thirty feet in the air when Hibari tapped him lightly on the shoulder.

The prefect drew back his finger as if the notion had dirtied him in some way.

"Oh, Hibari," Yamamoto threw on his customary grin, feigning ignorance. He hoped sincerely that the prefect wouldn't see through his clumsily disguised façade.

Sadly, it seemed as though the Disciplinary Committee leader was in no mood for acting oblivious, "I've heard that there's been a commotion just a few streets away."

Yamamoto couldn't help but frown. Why on earth was Hibari telling him this? In fact, why was Hibari even talking to him? Wasn't there meant to be some mutual truce between the two of them? Like, a truce of _silence_?

Hibari lifted one eyebrow, looking squarely at the swordsman, "There was blast damage. As far as I'm concerned, there is only one student at this school that possesses dynamite."

Yamamoto started, "Don't tell me Gokudera got into _another _fight. Damnit, those local gangs just don't know when to give up…"

Hibari swiftly thwacked him with one of his tonfa's, "Don't be ridiculous you moronic excuse for an herbivore. Even I doubt Gokudera Hayato would go to such extents just to fight off a gang of delinquents."

Come to think of it, Hibari _did _have a point. Yamamoto was just so accustomed to Gokudera using dynamite in every fight that to think of him not using it seemed absurd.

"Hope everything's alright…No doubt he just lost his temper."

Hibari nodded curtly, but there was a way his eyes narrowed and how they took on that calculating predatory look that made Yamamoto's stomach quiver irritably with irrational fear.

He mentally shook himself, _stop worrying unnecessarily. _

He pushed himself up off the wall to the school and began to walk back in the direction of Sawada's house, "Well, I'll see you at school tomorrow then Hibari."

The prefect didn't even acknowledge Yamamoto's farewell. He just stood there, rooted to the spot, arms crossed, tonfa hidden away.

As Yamamoto walked back, he felt his easy walk escalate into a jog, then into a full out run. He'd had to stay later to do the after school clean up. It was supposed to be him and Gokudera but he hadn't thought it was peculiar that his lover didn't turn up. He was accustomed to the Storm Guardian bunking and or just ditching any school duties he was given. It was just what made Gokudera who he was.

So Hibari's somehow worried - or what passed for worried in Hibari's case – irked Yamamoto. What had become so serious that Gokudera had needed to use his dynamite?

He rounded the corner and charged straight into Tsuna's house, not bothering to knock.

There was light murmuring coming from the living room and Yamamoto's heart leapt at the thought that Gokudera would be there, boasting about his fight earlier that day, making sure to not leave out one single detail. He begged for that to be the case, then this awful sinking feeling in his gut would subside.

He rounded the corner, eyes searching for that silver hair and should have already known. There wasn't any dominating scent of smoke in the room.

Only Tsuna sat on the dining room table, his chest and stomach being bandaged by a flustered Kyoko. His face was bruised and puffy, eyes defeated and dull.

_Oh no…_

Tsuna looked up from where he sat and Yamamoto had to grip the corner of the table to stop himself from collapsing.

"Tsuna…" He began, forcing himself to speak as his stomach plummeted into his feet, heart lurching up into his throat, "Where's Hayato?"

Tsuna's eyes began to swim with unshed tears as he stuttered the words.

"H-He was kidnapped…Oh God Yamamoto…I'm…I'm sorry…"

* * *

Gokudera groaned his way to consciousness, his face scratching against a rough, dusty floor. His shoulder was numb, side mangled and bloodied, no doubt that it was his blood that was permeating the air around him.

It took perhaps a good couple of minutes to shift himself up into a seated position. He could feel a slight breeze and looked in search of it. Instead all he found was a grate lodged into a wall, a door opposite it, with a presence that told him it wouldn't budge no matter how much dynamite he had.

As if he even had any dynamite. No doubt that yo-yo dude took it all…if they didn't then they were less gifted in the brains department than he thought.

He was surprised that his hands weren't shackled and yet, he doubted he needed to be. His body ached so much he could hardly bear it. His head must have gained at least three kilos, just through bruising, and he didn't even want to think about how much his wounded side hurt. It resembled having hot wires inserted under his skin; along with a dull electric current jolting his aching muscles every so often dare he breathe.

The pain was bearable though. It was far easier to cope with than what he had previously experienced.

There was the scraping sound of a lock being turned that threw Gokudera into a panicked frenzy. His side exploded in pain as he scampered as far away from the door as possible. Tough guy or no, whoever was on the other side of that door was no friend of his and whoever it was coming in to see him definitely wasn't going to be giving him some coffee with biscuits.

He cringed away from the pulsing light that framed the silhouette that stood on the other side of the door. The cell was small; barely two metres across every which way, so there wasn't much her could do to get away.

What struck him first were the eyes. One was a beautiful ocean blue, the other dark ruby red, but the iris seemed wrong. It was distorted and deformed yet mesmerising in the same way.

"You must be the famed Storm Guardian of Vongola Decimo," The man purred, his voice was intoxicating. Gokudera felt drawn to the man with his voice and its calm, wise edge. It held an edge to it that promised many things – it married up with his eyes perfectly – those eyes that had seen ice ages and the worst of intentions. This was somebody who might have some idea of the trauma he had experienced and a solution to it.

With a swift kick to his common sense, Gokudera centred himself. What the fuck was he doing? This was most definitely the guy that was behind this whole operation and what was he doing? Practically falling over himself to get to him. Jeez, they must have drugged him up or something.

Or it could have been those eyes.

The man walked in with a presence that spoke more than words could describe. It dominated the air around him, and Gokudera was fairly certain this man could bend anyone's will, even his.

_I'd like to see you try asshole, _He thought stubbornly. Score for the Italian with his unshakable loyalty. They would have to beat him senseless and then to death before he would tell them anything.

Of course, he had felt torture before. This man would not know that. As he glared up at the god-like figure with his almighty holier-than-thou aura, Gokudera couldn't help but feel smug. This man may think he would buckle under the strain of torture. If he was grateful in any way towards his past, it was its ability to strengthen his resolve and raise his tolerance towards pain to an almost unrealistic level. He was certain he would see this man sweat before he spoke a single word.

"You seem rather confident for a prisoner," He noticed, arms folded, leaning against the rocky wall.

Gokudera said nothing, only continued to glare.

"You'll wish you hadn't woken up after I've finished with you," He smiled and struck Gokudera across the face.

He was knocked to the side, crashing into the wall. His back groaned in unison to the rest of his aches as he fell forwards, hunching over himself.

He grinned through the pain, his split lip straining. _So the torture begins_.

_Bring it bitch._

_

* * *

_Tsuna struggled to get to his feet to console a very much panicking Yamamoto. Instead, with Reborn's booted foot added yet another bruise to the battered boys face, all he could do was look at him with pleading eyes.

"How long ago?" He asked, ready to chase any trail they may have had. His eyes were sharp, clear in their intensity. His simmering rage was so fierce even Ryohei who had just stopped talking with Haru flinched.

Reborn seemed to be the only one among them with enough experience to keep his cool, "You may think it's the end of the world, but instead quite the opposite. If you'd take the time to calm yourself, I might just explain."

Yamamoto ground his teeth together, temper near breaking point, but closed his eyes, releasing the wall from his splintering grip and took a deep breath. When his eyes opened this time, they still blazed, but it was less 'extreme' as Ryohei would so kindly word it.

Reborn nodded, accepting Yamamoto's barely contained control and motioned for him to sit beside him.

Yamamoto sat down with care, his movements all but silent. It was a stark contrast to the raging whirlwind he felt tearing up his insides.

"Tsuna heard the assailant give him name. Kokuyou High, 2nd year, Kakimoto Chikusa." His large, wise eyes narrowed. They held such power for such a young child and it only just outmatched the crushingly tight look in Yamamoto's amber eyes. The two had a silent stare down, Reborn demanding for calm, while Yamamoto felt the raw urge to go and smash something.

Reborn continued whilst their stare-off continued, "He is the worst kind of hitman Yamamoto," The infants eyes had dimmed, their childish competition forgotten as everyone leant in to what Reborn had to say.

He muttered to himself, "I'm surprised he wasn't killed right there and then. There are countless families' that would leap at the chance to slaughter the Tenth Vongola boss and his Guardian's."

Tsuna shivered, mashing his lips together so as not to make a sound. The last thing he wanted was to claim all the attention again. Gokudera must have known all along that the guy had been bad news. His heart shrivelled up into nothing as he hung his head in shame. He was supposed to _protect _his Guardians, not have them protect _him, _no matter what they had drilled into their heads.

Reborn caught on to Tsuna's slowly dominating aura of self-loathing and snapped, "If you want to wallow miserably, do it somewhere else where I don't have to see it Tsuna. If you're finished with your pity party of one, I'd like to explain."

Yamamoto hadn't taken his eyes off the infant the entire time. Though Tsuna's safety should have been at the top of his priority list he knew the Tenth Vongola boss had been bumped down to second place. All his thoughts were entirely centred on Gokudera.

He sensed the toddler was withholding information from them, and he would sit there for as long as it took for the child hitman to get it out of his system.

"The very fact that they took Gokudera means that they have plans; no doubt that involve all of us. By giving us such valuable information, Kakimoto Chikusa must want us to find them. That name though, I _know _I've heard it before."

Bianchi, who had been leaning against the dining room table, eyes shadowed in the dim light, spoke flatly, "Rokudo Mukuro, Reborn."

Never in his life had Yamamoto seen the infant hitman flinch. But this time, when he lifted his head to look at each of the Guardian's in turn, his eyes narrowed, "Chrome Dokuro. I knew the two were connected somehow," the child looked to Bianchi, eyes conveying more than words, "We're in more trouble than I first thought."

What on earth did Chrome have to do with this though? She was the mist guardian – what did she have to do with these assholes?

Bianchi only nodded, her crossed arms tightening, "That dumbass Hayato."

Reborn 'tched' her, "What he did was save Tsuna Bianchi. Remember that. Your brother is nothing if not loyal as a Saint-Bernard."

Yamamoto thought he might bore holes into the couch if he was left out of the loop for much longer.

Ryohei was the one to voice his concerns though, "Who the hell are they then?"

The infants face took on a dark, malicious edge that froze Yamamoto's veins, "They aren't even part of the mafia. They're outcasts, too dangerous even for us. Whatever they want with Gokudera, I can only _try _and imagine."

* * *

The steel poll came crashing down on his back once more, an inch away from the last spot he's been hit from. His muscles screamed out as the steel bruised him, splintering his nerves. His skin was bare, all his clothes stripped from him. All that was left was his naked form.

Gokudera would have struggled, but he'd found a way to cope long ago. He bit down on his lip, biting down harder when he drew blood, his fists clenched so tight that he knew if he was any stronger he would have broken his knuckles. His nails dug into his palms like small knives, the small flitting jabs of pain the only form of release he could find as the steel pole struck him mercilessly.

The red eyed man didn't even seem frustrated with Gokudera's silence. Instead, his movements seemed too precise to be based entirely on emotion, like they would if you were being tortured. They struck parts of his body that drained all his energy – his arms, gut, back and legs. These were the most dangerous places to strike. The bones in both his legs and arms were easy to break, and compared with a steel pole, they were nothing more than twigs under someone's boots.

He felt certain his abdomen was suffering from internal bleeding and he felt certain he'd fractured his jaw. None of that mattered though. As the beating continued, the man just kept on asking the same question.

"Who is the Tenth Vongola boss?"

Each time he asked the question, another part of Gokudera's vulnerable body was struck and his head would drown in the thick pool of pain that washed around him.

Don't look around, He ordered himself, but couldn't stop curiosity from rearing its ugly head as another figure stepped into the room.

It took on the figure of a woman, and from what he could see with his blurred, blood stained vision, she carried a staff of some sort.

_Ah shit, another torture tool?_

Instead, the man stopped pounding Gokudera's already beaten body, leaving him to coil in on himself on the cool floor, the gritty surface biting at his wounds.

There were murmurs, but Gokudera was fairly sure his ears were clogged with blood from the blow to the head he'd suffered earlier.

The man nodded and shut the door. Gokudera knew better than to assume they'd been discussing when to have a dinner party. Some sort of exchange had passed between them, and it was only when the man's hands came around his bruised arms and pulled him into a crumpled sitting position that he understood.

He'd swapped the metal pole for chains and shackles. Now _these _he feared.

_Shit, shit, fucking no! _Gokudera screamed in his thoughts, expecting the worst. His torn up legs squirmed, earning him a swift kick to the groin for his efforts. He groaned and went to double over but was roughly dragged up.

His wrists were cuffed and the chain attached to something in the wall behind him, lifting his arms up. Now he just looked like a tortured prisoner, powerless and defeated.

He ground his teeth together and growled despite himself.

There was a low, sickening chuckle from his captor who crouched down in front of him. Gokudera refused to look at his eyes, those bewitching, fucking _understandable _eyes that lured him in and took away whatever will he had left. He drew his attention to his bleeding and discolouring skin. His hips ached and old wounds from years ago taunted him with their slow, dull pain.

His voice was close, too close for Gokudera feel in any way safe. His breath rustled the hair by his ear as he murmured the words, "You may feel strong now, but what if I remind you of where you stand amongst your Guardians…what if I remind you," he laughed, his hot breath scorching Gokudera's raw skin, "Of how broken you are…"

This was impossible. Surely it wasn't possible to feel this empty and yet filled with panic. Gokudera tensed, but that was the only reaction he gave the bastard. Inside though, he was in so much pain it felt like his organs were being re-arranged. His lungs shrank and he began to hyperventilate as fear reared its own ugly head to accompany the panic, its claws digging into his flesh, draining it of all its warmth.

His blood thrummed in his veins, so hot and pulsing he thought his blood vessels would explode.

_No, he can't _possibly _know about what happened. He wouldn't, he just…he _couldn't…_he…_

Whatever pathetic condolences Gokudera had been about to console himself with were swept away as the man claimed his chin with cool fingers, forcing him to look the man in the eyes.

The Storm Guardian's body slackened at the hot gaze, with its raw hatred burning so beautifully amongst such vibrant shades of both blue and red. There was a blur from his left eye, which then burst into flames.

Flames of his dying-will – his pupil was still deformed, but now he was closer, Gokudera noticed that It was shaped as a Japanese character. What it said though he wasn't sure. He may have learnt Japanese, but he wasn't a fricking expert – he was Italian by birth for God's sake.

"Why?" he rasped the demand. If he was going to be raped, abused or killed, he at least deserved a reason for his sacrifice.

The man sneered, a cruel slit of a smile across his face, "Un occhio per un ochhio, tempesta custode."

The Storm Guardian started, automatically translating it in his mind, _An eye for an Eye, Storm Guardian. _What the hell had he done to be given _this _kinda treatment? Which mafia family had he pissed off?

The man continued, "My name is Rokudo Mukuro," He sneered again at the shock in Gokudera's eyes as his name registered with the abused teen, "And your family, the Vongola, along with your boss _Tsuna Sawada _are in need of my attention," he paused so he could relish in the paling of Gokudera's skin, _"_Vongola_ Decimo _needs to feel the bitter cruelty of what the mafia world is saturated with. The senseless torture they inflict on innocent souls that mean no harm. Before I end him, I want to see his eyes swim with the fear and betrayal we felt._"_

This time, Gokudera resisted with as much strength as he had left, squirming as furiously as his muscles would allow. His chained arms were useless, and the shackles too strong for him to break with brute force alone.

Rokudo Mukuro just stayed crouched there, holding the Italian's chin in his hand, his grip tightening with each struggle. He loved the seething rage barely contained under the Italian bomber's green gaze. He enjoyed how the boy had abandoned himself to the pain of the beating. This was a body that had felt pain before, pain with all its different faces. His eyes held none of the terror or agony he had expected. Instead, he had seemed resigned, accepting the fate he had been dealt as best he could. He had a remarkable talent, one that Mukuro commended him for. He truly was fit to be the Storm Guardian.

But now his time as the Storm Guardian was finished. He was to be broken, shattered by the hands of this man, in the same manner as Mukuro had been. Judging by the boy's demeanour, he sensed it would not take much for him to break. If he touched the right buttons, he could unravel this child in moments. It would be quite a sight to watch his mind unravel.

"Let's awaken those nightmares of yours shall we?" the man purred and pressed his lips to Gokudera's, silencing his prisoner. He knew exactly which memory to expose to the boy's weakened consciousness. He found that shadowed memory with ease, pushing it up to the surface, his echoing screams both from past and present fuelling his strength. The memory crashed through to the surface and soon would engulf the boy entirely. All that would be left to do then was watch and enjoy.

Gokudera lurched, sickened by the man's lips on his. It dug at his heart and drained his blood from his body. God, he was so dirty, no, he was _filthy. _To be so weak that his senses were overcome by a _kiss. _He would rather die, no, he _should _be dead. This black pool of darkness that had become his soul should just swallow him whole and spit out his bones. And he knows who Tsuna is…God that had been his top priority! _Don't let them find out Tsuna's the Tenth boss. Keep him safe. _

But he'd failed, as he had all those years ago. He was unable even to protect himself. What gave him the right to even _suppose _he could protect another person? Did he feel so inadequate that he instead had to substitute his own safety for someone else's in order to feel strong? To feel capable of defending somebody's life with his own, knowing if his was taken, it would be a blessing rather than something to be damned?

There had never been so much darkness in his life. It swum around him, it was the dreams he dreamt, the words he spoke, even the very air he breathed. Anything he touched blackened and withered, poisoned by his tainted skin.

The man's red eye drank in any life Gokudera may have had left, whatever fire had been burning to keep himself going diminished, blown out like a candle.

Gokudera's vision was swimming, more than it had been even when his head had been struck. His lungs and throat burnt themselves to ashes as the red eyed man kept him in his mental choke hold for far longer than was safe. His mind wandered, but it was a forced wander. He could feel the pressure of the man's consciousness pushing down on his own, claiming control over everything he was.

_That's why he'd beaten him, _so that he wouldn't be able too resist. Gokudera felt shame wash across him. Even if he was in top form, he was uncertain if he would have been able to resist this man's ungodly strength.

The wailing child from his past rose up to claim him. He screamed himself, eyes bleeding tears of agony as the pit of his darkest nightmares rose up to swallow him whole.

He clung with whatever strength he could muster, and for that, his captor had to smile. The boy certainly had strength, and a will that would be a joy to tame and bend to his own.

With one more push of his own mental strength onto the weakened boy, Gokudera's grip on reality slipped, dragging him into the darkened abyss of his most horrifying nightmares. Stark, intense, overwhelming fear claimed him.

Agony poisoned his heart, it ached so deeply – like a physical fist curled around his chest and lungs, squeezing until he thought he would die.

His breath hitched before slowly, his vision dimmed and he was sucked back into a world he would much rather have forgotten.

_I wish he'd killed me._

_

* * *

_Yamamoto had barely slept for more than half an hour that night, his thoughts all too consumed over what Reborn had told him. They replayed in his head constantly, some overtaking others, some repeating themselves endlessly. It was like being in a room filled with children, all begging for attention.

_Mukuro is an illusionist - One that has broken out of a mafia prison._

_He was exiled from the mafia._

_He murdered his entire family except for two others. One of them was the boy named Chikusa that Gokudera fought against yesterday._

_His left eye is said to be cursed in some way. _

_If he's got Gokudera, then-_

And then thoughts of Gokudera would swarm and overthrow everything else.

He placed a hand over his face, breathing deeply, struggling to keep his composure. If he broke down this easily, then Gokudera would be left for dead. It wasn't that he didn't trust Tsuna to find him, only that Yamamoto couldn't bear the thought of having been too weak to save his own lover.

Once again, the one to break Yamamoto out of his own mental vice was Hibari. He didn't jump out of his skin this time though. He was too busy worrying to be startled by Hibari and his strange 'appear outta nowhere' tricks.

"You're emitting a traumatic aura again Yamamoto Takeshi." It was strange how the prefect addressed you by both names, but Yamamoto just shrugged the elder boy off, digging his hands into his pockets further.

"I've got my reasons for it alright? You can't bite me to death for _thinking._"

If Hibari was concerned by Yamamoto's tone, he was able to cover it expertly, his tone cool in comparison, "If I know Gokudera Hayato in any way which I regrettably _do,_ I am certain he cope with whatever situation he has been put into."

Was Hibari trying to console Yamamoto in some way? The Rain Guardian peered at the Cloud Guardian, trying to de-riddle the prefect's peculiar personality, but when he drew up nothing, settled with the small chance he may have just been trying to cheer him up. Out of character? Definitely…but a nice change of scenery? Yeah, that too.

The prefect tensed beside him and when he looked up from his enthralling view of the ground, Yamamoto mimicked his movements to the letter.

Tsuna and Ryohei with Reborn were stood by some junior high student from another school. From afar, it looked like nothing more than harmless small talk, but there was a mannerism about the guy that threw up Yamamoto's guard immediately.

Reborn, who stood beside Tsuna, looked anything but calm, his head bent in a way that the swordsmen knew was for the worst of reasons.

He picked up the pace, but was stopped by Hibari who gripped his arm.

"What are you going Hibari? If he knows anything about Hayato," The teen pulled but Hibari's grip was unbreakable.

"You move another inch and I'll bite you to death."

Begrudgingly, the Rain Guardian consented, hanging back to observe rather than include themselves in whatever conversation was passing between them.

Once the student had left, Yamamoto all but raced towards Tsuna, "Who was he? What'd he want?"

Tsuna cracked his knuckles nervously; "H-he was the one that attacked us y-yesterday…" he broke off at the blistering gaze Yamamoto gave him.

"Calm yourself Yamamoto or I'll punish you like I do Tsuna," Reborn ordered. Yamamoto snapped his gaze over to the infant, nose wrinkled in fury. If he lost any more of his temper and he'd definitely do something reckless.

The infant sensed this and leapt up, smacking the Japanese teen straight across the face. He recoiled, holding his stinging cheek.

"Calm now?"

He scoffed, "You slap me in the face and think I'll suddenly be calm?"

Reborn fixed him with a glare of his own and it shut Yamamoto up immediately. It was easy to forget the child carried a gun with him and he knew if he pushed any more of Reborn's buttons then he'd end up with it aimed at his head.

"They've arranged for us to meet them at their base later on today." The child hitman spoke matter of factly, daring Yamamoto to say anything with his eyes, "We are _all _to be there, so even you Hibari Kyoya."

Hibari crossed his arms, but nodded his head bluntly, "They've disrupted school life, so it's accounted for that they should be bitten to death."

Reborn nodded curtly, glad that they already had such a good asset. Ryohei had immediately agreed the moment the junior high student - Chikusa it had been - left.

Lambo would have to be excused from this, Reborn knew that. If they were up against Mukuro, unless they no longer wanted a Thunder Guardian, he would have to forfeit this round. He had gotten in contact with Chrome that who had looked very much concerned by the unfolding events and so, she too was excused. Though unbiased, she had unrivalled loyalty to both Mukuro _and _Tsuna. If made to fight, she would probably lose on purpose if against Mukuro and Reborn wanted as few casualties as possible.

Tsuna had gripped his fists and promised to do his best to save Gokudera from whatever cruelty he had been having to endure all this time, but it was Yamamoto he was most concerned by.

He looked up to the swordsman with clear, dark eyes.

"Yamamoto Takeshi. I'm certain I don't need to know whether you will be accompanying us on this expedition, but know this. You may come, but on one condition."

Yamamoto's jaw tensed, but he nodded. He could complain after he'd heard the condition.

"Gokudera may be our top priority, but so is the safety of every one of your comrades. Do not rate him above anyone. If he is lost to us, you cannot throw yourself into battle and sacrifice your own life for an imaginary cause. It is Tsuna's decision on what we do. Not yours. Is that understood? You are to obey every order given to you."

The toddler looked at him defiantly, wondering whether the Rain Guardian would agree. He had suspected there was a deeper relationship than what met the eye between the two Guardians', but as long as it wouldn't interfere in operations such as these, he would say nothing about it.

Yamamoto wondered for a moment if he should resist, but he knew it would be infantile and instead, offered no resistance and agreed diplomatically. He turned to Tsuna, "I trust you'll know what's best. You always do," he grinned to take the edge off his words.

"We meet out by the gates at four o'clock. I'll be waiting," Reborn said as he turned and left.

Yamamoto felt his jaw muscle tense and looked out at the school gates, out to wherever Gokudera may be being held captive.

_A little longer Hayato. Just a little longer – please hold on._

* * *

Mukuro pulled away from the tortured boy, his eyes holding a dark sheen of triumph. It had taken a while to break him, but he had succeeded. It seemed this boy was far more scarred than even _he _had thought. Whatever hell he had been through, it must have been quite stunning to have caused this much damage.

Tears dropped from his eyes freely. He'd been dressed again. His clothes were dirty, but un-bloodied like his body was. It hid the worst of his injuries and wondered how long it would take his comrades to notice how much pain he was in. The child looked like he could barely breathe, let alone speak, so whatever pain was rocking through his body would be suffered through in silence.

A sadistic smile turned the man's lips up. This boy would have been a brilliant asset had he not been a part of the mafia. But then of course, it had been the mafia that had turned this child into such a delectable creature. The way irony played with life was always entertaining to the man's bewitched eyes.

Gokudera wept silently, raw agony tearing him apart from the inside when the man left. He would be left here no doubt, until the battle that was so surely to come was over. No matter how strong he knew Tenth was, he was positive not even Reborn would be able to stand against that ferocious monster.

Pain bucked him back into order; as if angry he'd turned his attention away from it for merely a moment. He lurched forwards, sobbing like an infant, gagging on his own breath. His chest ached, his lungs so heavy he was sure they had been replaced with bricks. They dragged him into the ground, but he could only lean so far. His wrists were still shackled, hung up above his head. The blood had run out of them long ago, and he barely had enough will to keep on breathing, let alone clench his fists to keep the blood circulating.

He wasn't afraid if he died. Before, his fury and pleads to die had been filled with self-loathing. Now though, he had no energy. He wasn't even running on empty. There was nothing there. He was an empty shell, the ghost of the boy who had been thrown in here earlier. His eyes had taken on such a dark burning shade of green earlier, but now, were dulled and closer to grey.

He'd never felt so defeated and so weak to his own ferocious demons.

As if on queue, a wail ricocheted through his barren mind, its sound harsh and raw, begging him for more attention and comfort than he could give.

_It's already been done, _was all he could think, _scream all you want. Shriek if you want. No matter what, it's gonna be done to you, and you just live past it. You just…live…_

Before, the Storm Guardian had felt certain he would have something to live for in his life. Once he'd arrived in Japan, his life felt fuller, more complete. His friends and experiences didn't fill the gouging hole in his heart, but it had helped it heal, shrunk it so that the pain was more than endurable. He'd begun to move on, to grow stronger, and believed he had made it past the fear and the terror of what he'd experience back in Italy.

Instead it had been a dream. Nothing but a bare illusion. It was rather cruel if you thought about it. He'd felt at peace with who he was. He'd even found himself someone he cared for more than both himself and the Tenth.

Yamamoto.

This time, the jerking motion was from an all too different kind of pang. It dug away at his gut and he drew his knees to help muffle the pain. Tears kept on coursing down his smooth, reddened cheeks, stinging at his bruises and cuts. They spilt onto the floor, pooling around him.

He was in no way able to go back to him. Whatever progress he had made with his lover had just been crushed. The sins he'd been forced to commit had made him filthy. He was rotten, a poison that would kill the person who meant most to him. If he was any kind of man, he would end it. He would.

But he couldn't and the cowardice he felt for that made the tears fall harder. He was so weak he wished he would just crawl away and die somewhere. There wasn't enough light in the world to chase away his darkness. Maybe Yamamoto might have once been able to. He even had been, little by little. He'd never forced Gokudera. If he stopped half-way through, he would pout and fondle him, but stopped. The respect he felt for his lover swelled till it nearly hurt in his chest. He doubted Yamamoto would handle what Gokudera had been through. Fuck, not even _he _was coping.

His body ached, both from past and present wounds. The ghost fingers from his past ran over his skin and he groaned a sound that soon morphed into a whimper.

Gokudera let his eyes slide shut, but the tears still leaked from the corners of them, but he still seeked peace in the darkness, but finding only more pain as tainted memories rushed into his thoughts and his body spasmed in the painful throes of suffocation and drowning. The words from the men echoed around him, and they held such a tangible element that each voice seemed to strike at him in more violating ways than another.

This time it wasn't his younger self that was suffering, but the both of them. His out of body experience had been him moving on. But Mukuro had made sure to turn him around and push him back to square one. Now he was suffering through the torture all over again.

The humiliation tore at him and he cried out, a hoarse cry that would jerk the heart strings of the toughest of men. It was a desperate plea, no, a _begging _for some form of salvation and forgiveness. He begged to be released, to be saved and held away from the cruelty of this world, of his own world.

But instead there he was, chained in a cell to battle his demons alone, with nothing but tears as a weapon. Pity had never beaten them before; it wasn't going to win now.

"_You're ours for life boy."_

"_No! _Please!_" he had shrieked the words, only to be silenced by one of the men's thick, hot appendages. He'd gagged around the hot length, choking as it was driven into his throat at a brutal speed. His lower back burned as he was taken from the back as well._

_Both men rocked him back and force at irregular intervals, so he either ended up being choked or torn up. He couldn't choose which was more painful or traumatic. _

_Fingers clawed at his skin, in their obvious pleasure. He tried to concentrate of the small pricks of pain, like you would a drop of rain amongst a fire, but it was lost in the blaze._

_Just as he was._

Gokudera winced, physically retracting from the memory. He would have hugged himself, but his arms were chained. He could feel blood trailing down them in thin rivulets and wished that was the only pain he had to focus on. It was dull, natural, unlike the beastly misery he had had to withstand before.

What a masterpiece he'd made of his life. He was so gone he couldn't scrunch up his face and cry. He just sat hunched over, hair hanging over his face, hiding the tears that just kept on falling one by one. If only the memories could fall away so easily.

He wished for someone to understand him and forgive him, to cry with him, feel his pain and share it.

He'd thought that might have been Yamamoto. But Yamamoto was gone. He wouldn't be able to save him. He was lost to the world and he knew it. Dare he touch his lover again and he was sure he would ruin it like he did everything he touched. Gokudera couldn't help but love the baseball nut, his heart yearning for that same gentle touch he had grown so accustomed to feeling. Those warm inviting lips that drank all the sorrow away from him. Without them, he felt naked and bare, detached from the world.

He was drowning and there was no light to beckon him towards the surface, just the dark waters, enclosing around him.

Gokudera had been drowning silently for years, the tide flowing in closer and closer. All that had distracted him from the slowly deepening waters had been Yamamoto's life line.

But Yamamoto wasn't anywhere and without his lifeline, he was powerless to the powerful that threatened to drag him away.

No one had been able to see or reach him. Not even Yamamoto had been able to notice Gokudera's pain.

No, he _had, _and had worried constantly about it. Just like that night when he'd hallucinated. Yamamoto musts have been certain there were more skeletons rattling around in his closet than there had appeared, but like the moron he was, Gokudera had ignored any reassurance Yamamoto had been willing to give him.

All he wanted to do know was physically follow through on what he'd already done emotionally. Numbness spread through him, his eyes carrying the pain his heart refused to divulge.

He wouldn't cry. He couldn't. If he had any pride left, then he would use to suffer in silence. No-one needed to see how much pain this had caused him, or how such a thing had left such deep scars. He was alone in the world and knew it was the best way for him to live.

Apathy settled around him and he gladly took it in, the tears still rushing down his face. At least now when he opened his eyes and saw not the cell he was locked in but the dank, darkened room from his memories, he wouldn't have to grit his teeth through the misery. He was void to it. It couldn't reach him now. It had done its damage. All that remained was his vacant eyes and the overwhelming sorrow.

_I'm sorry Yamamoto…please forgive me… but…you weren't enough to save me…_It was early when Yamamoto had left classes to walk towards the school gates. He'd just had sport and had gotten dressed at lightning speed. There was a question he wanted to ask Reborn, one he knew he just couldn't ask around the others.

* * *

Yamamoto was startled but surprised to see their method of transport when he got to the school gates and despite the severity of the situation, chuckled.

Reborn stood on the seat of one of the five motorcycles and fixed him with a smirk, glad with the reaction.

Yamamoto cleared his throat cautiously, "Uhm, Reborn?"

"Hmm?" The child posed it in as open a way as possible.

The swordsman rubbed the back of his head before scratching the side of his nose. _What a terrible poker face_, the infant thought.

"If you're wondering why I directed the conditions only to you then you carry a lower IQ than I anticipated Yamamoto."

Yamamoto felt his ears redden and stammered, "T-that's harsh…"

The child sighed, sitting himself down on the seat like he owned the bike, "you don't need to pretend you haven't got an established relationship with Gokudera anymore you know. Everyone knows; there's nothing to be embarrassed by."

Yamamoto felt his cheeks redden despite his best efforts. He dug his hands into his pockets, not knowing what to do with them, "Nah, it's not that…it's just…ok, yeah, It's a _little _embarrassing, but everyone's known for ages so I was just wondering why you decided to put such a proposal to me _now. _I've done loads of operations with Gokudera and you've never warned me like you did this morning…"

The child sighed, but understood the teens point.

"The enemy is beyond strong Yamamoto. I'm sorry to sound blunt but I think you can handle it."

Yamamoto narrowed his eyes at the hitman, "what?"

Reborn sighed, "It's been 19 hours since we saw Gokudera. If he really is being held captive by Mukuro, well, I don't think even _Gokudera _can hold out for that long."

Yamamoto felt his face fall, "What do you mean Reborn? He can't possibly have been killed yet!"

The child's eyes took on that old sheen again, so old and filled with the past it nearly hurt to look at them, "Yes I understand that but, if Mukuro's torture methods are anything like what I've read, Gokudera will most probably be either dying or wishing he was dead."

All the blood and feeling in Yamamoto's body washed away with the soft breeze that swept around the two boys.

"W-what are his methods Reborn?" Yamamoto couldn't tell if his tone was angry or scared.

The child had his arms crossed, hat pulled down so his eyes were hidden, "It's a very specific type of torture. He never needs information; he can get it by any means. I won't say he's popular because he _isn't _but he has nearly as many connections as the Vongola do."

Yamamoto's patience took another blow, "Reborn, _how does he torture prisoners_?" The word 'prisoner' left a sour aftertaste in his mouth.

The child looked pained but continued, "He beats them senseless so they can't fight him off when he enters their sub consciousness. I _did _say he was an illusionist. What I didn't mention was how he's a mentalist as well, the most dangerous of ones too. He finds your most painful memories and forces you to relive them. It's the cruellest of torture because he only has to sit back and watch. If ever he _did _need information, I don't know a man on earth that would be able to hold their tongue after having to suffer through their own hell twice."

Yamamoto swallowed, his eyes wide in horror. _Gokudera had to suffer through this? Did he still have to endure it?_

Thankfully, this was the exact moment when Ryohei appeared with Tsuna. They'd had sport with Yamamoto too, but when he'd mentioned he had something to ask Reborn, they had both let him leave with a smile on their faces.

"You alright Yamamoto?" Tsuna asked the question carefully, like he treading on glass.

He nodded, smiling like nothing was wrong, "I got the answer I needed."

Tsuna seemed relieved, but his relief was short lived. He saw the bikes and his eyes widened to an abnormal size.

"Oh god no," he moaned. Reborn smirked, all too aware of how much his student hated the machines.

"One of them is in for service, so Yamamoto; you can use Gokudera's." The child directed it at Yamamoto none too subtly and he hated how his cheeks reddened.

Tsuna put a hand on his friends as Yamamoto gripped his lover's bike, "I know how much he means to you Yamamoto. I'll do everything I can so we can save him."

Yamamoto nodded, smiling sadly. How long had it been since he and Gokudera had come out about their relationship? Two months maybe? It was surprising how everyone had adapted to it and gave them their blessing. It wasn't that they had felt like they would be shunned, it was the 21st century for god's sake, but they were worried Tsuna or Reborn would see them as more of a drawback rather than an asset.

They'd settled back into their lives easily, relieved that their relationship no longer had to take place in secret, or be held under the radar like some hidden kitten they didn't want their parents to notice.

In fact, it was embarrassing to find out everyone had had their little hunches and weren't surprised. Good to know they had fool-proof poker faces.

When Hibari made his way towards them, they all strapped up and with their weapons concealed in either a sports bag like Yamamoto's – his baseball bag to be precise - or a compartment hidden in the seat of the bike, they revved their engines and drove away in the direction of the base they'd be directed to.

_Soon, _Yamamoto thought, not daring his heart too leap too soon with hope. It was too easy for the emotion to betray him. Instead, he just concentrated on the gears of the bike and the fact that this was Gokudera's, not his own, but his lovers. It definitely sounded like the boy he loved – furious, powerful and intimidating. But very, very reliable and he knew how delicate these machines were. If you didn't take care of them, they broke down on you.

He gripped the handles at the thought, promising himself he wouldn't stop until he found him.

_I'll find you Hayato. I promise._


	4. Handle With Care

_**A/N: **__Now before I bore you with all my 'wasn't that an awful chapter' and whatever, I want you to know that there are two songs that you MUST listen to when reading this chapter (Woah, I'm so pushy D:). But they are beautiful songs: Life is Beautiful (acoustic) by Sixx: A.M. and Said it All by Take That._

_Wow, I seem to be really pumping out these chapters :D *i just get onto word and it kinda just writes itself ;3* -Hugs my muse and gives her a chocolate bar and something to drink for her efforts XD- I wonder how long I'll be able to keep up this writing streak...*hopes it's semi-permanent XD*_

_In this chapter, it delves right into the darkest parts of Gokudera's depression (which will continue in the next chapter) and how only Yamamoto can drag him out of it. There will be a cliff hanger, but don't worry, there will be a lot explained in the next chapter ;D oh and yeah, there'll be a lot of angst in the next two chapters, so please, try not to strangle either of them if you could. They're both confused and have a right to be, so please give them a bit of time. =) _

**Chapter Four – Handle with Care**

"_When the tears fall away  
And there´s no conversation  
there´s nothing left to break  
that´s not already broken  
you´re staring into space  
And every inch of silence  
Been standing here for days, and days_  
-Said It All – Take That

Said it all  
Nothing to say at all  
Nothing to say that matters  
haven´t we heard enough?"

Whatever Yamamoto had been expecting, it most certainly had _not _been this.

The building looked about ready to fall down, and it wasn't as though it was located anywhere populated. They'd had to drive for a good hour and a half out of Tokyo to find this place right on the outskirts. It looked like an old dojo, but a modern one. It didn't hold any of the traditional features and aesthetics which most dojos did. Instead, it just appeared as a crumby four storey block.

_This _was where they'd taken Gokudera? Holy shit...it made Yamamoto's skin crawl just by thinking about what it must be like having to live here.

"And you said this guy was a _genius? _Those _were _your exact words," Yamamoto said incredulously to Reborn.

"As always, you don't think ahead Yamamoto," Reborn sighed, "If Mukuro had bought up an enormous, grand building somewhere in the centre of Tokyo, don't you think that it just _might _attract the wrong kind of attention?"

This time Yamamoto wasn't the only one to blush sheepishly. He noticed Tsuna's cheeks darken a little as well, and wondered if the shorter boy had been wondering the same thing.

Reborn wasn't one to dwell though and before any of them could get into the building, especially Hibari whose tonfa's were already drawn, spoke to Tsuna, "So Tsuna, what do we do?"

He made his usual 'eh?' like he hadn't had Reborn throw all the responsibility onto his shoulders before.

"Uh...well," he voice hitched as he looked at each of his Guardian's worriedly. All they could do was shrug and offer him sheepish grins, except Hibari who fixed him with a predatory glare.

Reborn stamped on his foot; voice sharp, "The more you flail around like your good-for-nothing self, the worse the condition Gokudera will be in when we find him. Get your act together already and be a boss to your Guardians."

However strange and sometimes violent Reborn's methods were, they certainly put Tsuna back on track when it mattered.

He stood squarely in front of each of his Guardians, expression calm and controlled, eyes calculating in a very non-Tsuna way.

"Ryohei," He looked at the boxer, "You'll act as the defence."

Ryohei frowned, eyes begging for a reason why, "But I work better in attack. I'm more extreme in my fighting."

Hibari chuckled, a rare phenomenon, "You're just an herbivore."

Ryohei fixed him with a glare, "What'd you say Kyoya?"

Hibari glared at the boy, "Don't say my name so lightly, or I'll bite you to death."

"Stop it."

Tsuna looked up to Yamamoto's eyes that stared at the ground. His fists were clenched, shoulders taught, "Would you both stop bickering for once in your life and just listen to Tsuna? It can't damage your pride _that _much surely?"

His tone had been non-offensive and his voice hadn't risen above a whisper, but the words themselves were daggers in the air.

Hibari refused to flinch, but blinked his admission, "What position am I to be?"

"You'll be the mid-field," Tsuna replied, "I'll be the one to start the immediate fight. I don't want anyone else getting hurt more than me. Except," His face tightened with remorse, "I think Gokudera's pain is out of my league."

"What am I going to do?" Yamamoto asked, apprehensive.

Tsuna looked him directly in the eyes, trying his hardest to appear tough when actually he could barely stop trembling, "You'll go and search for Gokudera. Reborn researched the place earlier and found they have a basement. That's most definitely where they'll be keeping him."

There was no doubt about that, Yamamoto had to admit. Though the building did seem to have five floors, most were crumbling, with a hefty chunk of the right hand side of the building missing. He wondered if Godzilla might have gotten peckish then smacked himself for making such a joke.

"Ready Tsuna?" Reborn asked. His tone said that the topic was closed. Whatever complaints they might have had before were silenced. It wasn't often that the infant assassin pulled authority like that, he would normally leave it to Tsuna, but he was quite capable of putting his foot down when he had a mind to do so.

Tsuna nodded.

"Then let's go," Yamamoto said, smiling at his very cheesy cliché. He was psyched, especially when he knew his lover was barely a hundred metres away from him.

The five of them all turned towards the building and strode towards it, their expressions all business, eyes a challenge. Yamamoto pulled out his sword, Hibari already had his tonfa's poised, Tsuna tugged on his gloves and Ryohei bandaged his fists.

_Prepare yourself Mukuro, coz I'm gonna kick your ass.  
_

* * *

Gokudera was jolted out of numb state by a resounding crash from above him. Whatever was going on above him, he was pretty certain it was something _big._

But that was as far as his curiosity stretched. Yes, he knew he was being overly depressed, but it really was just the stark reality of his situation. He was a traumatised kid that had lost any reason to keep on breathing. He'd been too stubborn to die, or rather; his body had kept on living even when his heart had all but withered and died. Strange how the human body refused to give up, even when its will to live had burnt out.

Another shudder shook the building's foundations. This time it was strong enough to pick up some dust from the floor. The small particles shimmered in the soft beams of light that fell into the cell from the small grate of a window a good eight feet above him. The light faded though, the sunlight probably overtaken by a cloud. It was interesting, how such a powerful force could be throttled by such a placid thing. It said quite a lot for things in life, especially his. No matter how strong he had thought he might have become, there was always some thundercloud, ready to blot out his sun and plunge him into the night.

This time there was a directional blast to the floor above. Gokudera sensed it had been aimed to the right of him, so where his cell door was, but of course, one floor up. No-one would find him here.

_I should be struggling more, battling to escape_, the tired boy thought glumly, somebody's_ causing a ruckus, and there's still a chance it could be Yamamoto. I could be rescued still..._

Again that twisted pang in his gut dug into him again, burrowing deeper, making him double over.

Gokudera had never thought someone would be guarding his cell, more because surely they'd go insane with his constant weeping and screaming if he ever fell asleep, but he felt nearly insulted when the door to his prison cell was practically torn off.

Was he really that little of a threat to not need to be guarded? Ouch.

There was tall figure stood where his door had been, but whatever light had been pooling in when that Mukuro guy had been. He might have had less of a presence to that strange, sadistic man, but this person sent a ripple of some strange warm feeling through his icy heart.

Gokudera wished the cell wasn't so dark, or the backlight so dim. Then maybe he would be able to see who this stranger way.

Except when he heard the crisp '_shing'_ of something sharp and the glint of metal held in the stranger's hand, his heart leapt – Yamamoto.

He opened his mouth to speak his lover's name, but his vocal chords were frozen. All that came out was his breath and that alone was too quiet to grab Yamamoto's attention.

"_Shit. _This one's empty too. Maybe Reborn was wrong...maybe they kept him on one of the higher floors."

He went to turn away and this time, his body refused broke him away from his solitude. His chained hands chinked, alerting Yamamoto's acute hearing.

He spun around, eyes searching wildly for the source of the noise.

_No, _Gokudera thought pleadingly, _please just go Yamamoto. Please...if you stay and save me...I'll just drag you deeper...go, please!_

But of course, the swordsman wasn't a mind reader, but instead an aura sensor. It wasn't much of a skill except that most people could _sense _things about others, and it was difficult to miss the confused, but very much intimidating aura of Gokudera's.

"Hayato?" The swordsman breathed, his tone daring to sound hopeful but still cautious. It seemed neither of them could afford to be disappointed. Not today, maybe never again, not with how unstable Gokudera knew his mental state was.

Through his muted misery his chained rattled again, and this time Yamamoto grinned, his teeth white amongst all the dark surroundings, "Hayato!" and bounded into the cell.

Of course, the buffoon had to look around everywhere except where Gokudera actually _was, _but when he did finally lay eyes on his lover, his grin vanished quickly.

"Oh my god...Hayato..." His tone was distraught, holding none of the joy that had momentarily claimed him.

He dropped down to Gokudera's height, taking in his crumpled, dirtied school uniform. The sleeves of his shirt were torn, the front practically shredded. His black trousers were crusted in dust and dried blood.

He wanted to touch his lover hand, but couldn't find it.

_Oh my god, they cut off his hands? _The thought chilled and infuriated him briefly before he noticed them having above Gokudera's head, limp and covered in dry blood.

With the mere twist of his wrist, his blade cut through the chains soundlessly. The only noise they could hear was their own breathing and the soft clatter of broken metal.

With his hands free, Gokudera let the drop, his fingers twitching as blood rushed into his fingers. He hung his head, a dark scowl on his face, lips tightly closed. He should feel happy, relieved or just plain _excited _to have been found. But with nowhere to go and no-one to go back to, he couldn't find the will to even look up at his lover. He would be deceived by the open eyes and their honesty. He'd think everything would be alright again, that he'd heal.

Hadn't this entire experience taught him that that hadn't ever been the case?

Whilst Gokudera's mental battle forged onwards, Yamamoto put his sword on the ground, hilt facing Gokudera in a non-threatening way. Lesson number one; always put your sword down so the blade itself isn't facing someone you want to help - with the threatening metal turned towards, they normally saw you as a predator.

Yamamoto swallowed, unsure of whether he really wanted to see Gokudera's face – could he handle the look he may give him? Would he be infuriated that he hadn't found him sooner? Or would he hug him?

All Yamamoto could see was Gokudera's nose and lips, his hair hanging over his eyes. Those lips...had they really been pressed to his barely a day ago? He ached for Gokudera's warm, soft mouth, to feel his mouth being taken by the Italian, but he knew somehow that kissing was the last thing on Gokudera's mind.

Yamamoto tried to drag Gokudera's face up to his to see how much damage had been done but Jesus, he was so _cold. _How could somehow be so cold and not shiver?

Cupping his jaw and cheeks in his hands as tenderly as he could, Yamamoto took a breath, thumbs rubbing soothing circles on the Storm Guardian's cheeks. He relished in the softness of his lovers skin, but could feel imperfections – bruises, cuts and grime layered his lover's perfect skin and when he looked into his eyes, he felt his heart sink into the floor.

Reborn was right – the Rain Guardian was amazed Gokudera was even breathing. His eyes were so dim, so _dull _and_ lifeless, _they held none of the strength they usually did and instead might as well have been _dead._

"Oh Hayato…" He breathed, barely able to contain the urge to hug his lover in a tight embrace.

Gokudera dredged up whatever mental barrier he could, feigning any sense of strength he could. He couldn't bear having his lover see him this torn apart.

_Just suck it up, _He ordered himself; _suck it up until I can be on my own. Then I'll let myself fall apart..._

Except he didn't want to. He hated feeling so guilt ridden and dirty, especially in comparison to Yamamoto's purity. He was an ink smudge on an otherwise pearly white canvas.

Yamamoto sensed that underneath the small filmy layer of strength Gokudera was struggling so hard to show him, was a thick, heavier layer of shame and despair. Yamamoto felt himself pulled in, as if he were being sucked into Gokudera's core through his dulled green eyes, dragged into the misery of what had befallen the boy so unjustly. Mesmerized by the face staring up at him, Yamamoto's head sank down in shame, angry at how he hadn't found the Guardian sooner.

It was too confusing; it made his head hurt with how lost he was to it all. The stress was going to tear Gokudera open and make him start sobbing again from the pain and uncertainty. He couldn't face Yamamoto right now; he was already too raw and vulnerable to act strong and unconcerned. He was standing on the edge of darkness and all to ready let it take him. Already he could feel its cold fingers reaching to take him. He was so close, yet here was his light, his _reason, _ready to pull him back again. Gokudera was shocked at how desperately he wanted to be pulled back again – away from the desperate numbness he had given into to escape from the pain. He wanted to be whole again, but didn't think he could be fixed – he was too broken.

"Hayato," Yamamoto spoke with a strong tone, but it was gentle, coaxing, "Don't lie to me and say you're alright. Don't sit here and feign strength when I know you're going to fall to bits. Please, _please, _just tell me what Mukuro made you see. _Please, _Hayato. It's the only way I can save you."

The Italian chuckled darkly, "From who? The list is pretty long."

Yamamoto's eyes narrowed, whispering, "From yourself."

Gokudera looked up into his lover's eyes, so earnest and willing to understand and forgive him for whatever sin's he'd committed it made the Storm Guardian want to cry.

"You know...what Mukuro did?" His voice hitched, breaking somewhere in the middle.

Yamamoto shook his head, "I only know his methods. Whatever he made you see, I don't know. But you have to tell me Hayato."

Gokudera felt his face turn angry, "It's none of your business."

Yamamoto's eyes softened in pain, "You don't need to be strong for me Gokudera. You don't need to pretend. I've known something was wrong for a while. You're 'episode' the other day?" Gokudera's tightening of the eyes was enough of a response for him, "I'm sure that wasn't the worst of it."

Gokudera shook his head once, answering as many questions as he could with it. His hands, stinging with pins and needles, hugged themselves, and before he knew it, his nails were dragging across his bare arms, drawing blood. He clawed ravenously, his eyes filled with despair.

_No, that wasn't the worst of it. It was worse, it was hell incarnate. No, he knows, or he's gonna find out – he'll see it in my eyes. You saw through everything. You're gonna hate me. You won't even be able to look at me. You'll leave me – abandon me. Again, I'll be left alone again. Alone in this cruel merciless world._

_I'll be thrown away._

The tears rolled down his cheeks and over Yamamoto's hands. Their heat singed his skin, but the tracks were well worn, and Yamamoto knew these weren't the first tears his lover had shed over the matter.

He let his forehead touch Gokudera's speaking as softly as he could, "I want to know Gokudera. I want to ease your pain. I won't be ashamed – I won't hate you. I just want to _understand _you. I can't if lock me out."

Yamamoto knew Gokudera always had to be strong in front of everyone else, it was expected of him as Tsuna's right hand man, and his character bound him to it.

He trusted his friends – Tsuna, Hibari, Ryohei, Bianchi, Reborn, Fuuta, even Lambo... but some things were just not done or seen. No one had ever seen Gokudera cry.

No one but his bathroom mirror and his bed sheets had ever seen his tears, and no one could, the shame of it threw up the flood gates before the waterworks could begin. Now that he'd grown up with it, he'd begun to think of it either as his fate to remain apathetic his whole, or as a curse, _punishment_ for what he'd allowed to be done to him all those years ago. No matter what, he always had to carry on no matter what kind of torment he was having eat away at him from the inside, always had to stride onwards unabashed and untouched amongst whatever chaos lay in his wake.

It didn't matter how strong Gokudera's heart was. It didn't take much brain power for Yamamoto to understand that it was broken to irreparable pieces. Utter pain and heartbreak beyond expression was all he could feel for his lover, it was almost as strong as his love for his partner. Both battled with each other, but Yamamoto just stayed where he was, the tears trailing down his face and landing on Gokudera's forehead.

Until now, Gokudera hadn't ever been able to grieve with anyone, not even Bianchi, despite her best efforts to ease open her half-brothers tightly sealed heart. He hadn't dared let anyone see him as anything but controlling, powerful and aloof. It was all he could ever do not to fall apart at the smallest thing. He distanced himself from everyone he befriended for their own safety, knowing the luggage he carried was heavier than anyone else's - And far more dangerous. To have Yamamoto crouch here and cry with him, it was more than he could bear. He shouldn't deserve such kindness.

Yamamoto was the one person he could share and seek comfort from, but knowing he had nothing to fall back on if he was rejected; Gokudera was thwarted with fear of abandonment. Bianchi had known, hell, _she'd _been the one to find him; she had been the one to fight for his life even when hers had been beaten within an inch of it. She had held him in his room that night when he'd cowered from every shadow and whimpered at the slightest sound. But he hadn't cried – he'd been too shocked by his rescue.

Gokudera was always continuously stunned that there were still those who thought he was still saveable – redeemable. They saw his salvation even when he thought it had been stolen away from him for good. They held out a lifeline time and time again.

How could he deserve something so special? Was it fortunes way of blessing him? Or was it another twist in fate's plot to take the world out from under his feet again.

Yamamoto buried his face in Gokudera's hair and gave into his own unforgiveable, but now unstoppable weakness. He was meant to be strong for his partner, not give in to the sadness as well. He didn't even know what he was crying _for. _

But still he wept with the Italian, his tears spilling silently into Gokudera's cold but soft silver locks as he allowed himself to imagine the torment the boy had had to endure all these years alone.

"I'll show you," He wept through the tears, "But please, don't leave me...please...you just...you can't!" the last part was a savage beg, so filled with fear and shame it brought tears to Yamamoto's eyes, trickling down from the corners of his eyes. The Storm Guardian became so flustered he began to mutter in Italian, in such a way it seemed like he was saying his last prayers.

There was something extremely precious and fragile about seeing this side of Gokudera in the semi-open, away from the ears and eyes of those who would never approve. He was going to be honest with Yamamoto for once, to tell him the full truth and the pride and trust Yamamoto felt and knew was being bestowed upon him made this moment seem all the more precious. Gokudera was definitely a 'suffer in silence' type, and a private kind of guy who held his cards as close to his chest as he could. To be trusted with his heart and everything it held, it made Yamamoto love him all the more and he would see it protected, no matter the cost.

"Hayato...listen to me," Yamamoto begged in response. Gokudera stopped muttering, but trembled with apprehension.

"I promise Hayato. I'm yours," He murmured, knowing Gokudera needed the consolation, no matter how times he had heard it, "Whatever you are, I am too. I'll carry the burden, share it, but I'll always love you. Nothing can change it, whatever you think."

Gokudera gripped his shirt tighter, his face burrowing into the crook of his neck, his sobs racking his entire body. Years of anguish and pent up emotions he'd thought had faded away over time washed through him like a gale. This was supposed to be the way of the Storm Guardian. They were emotive, very much passion-driven. But never had there been one as tortured as Gokudera. He'd stolen Yamamoto at a glance though the transfer student with the silver hair and the pretty eyes. Their green hue drew you in, and burned with unspoken challenges. They excited the Japanese teen and saddened him at the same time. They were the eyes of someone who had battled life entirely on their own.

"We have to leave," Yamamoto breathed, his neck muscles humming as he spoke. It thrummed against Gokudera's skin and fuelled his gasping need to live. The heat the swordsman gave off slowly heated the Italian's core, allowing him to assume control of his body and his own will once more.

He forced himself to stop crying and spoke with a small, ghostly smile, "then help me up."

Yamamoto's grin couldn't have been broader as he pulled away, his hand taking up his sword, the other extended, palm up to Gokudera. His gaze spoke more than words could describe, but one of them was fairly obvious.

_I love you, _the amber eyes spoke softly, but held more power than the sun.

_I know..._The green ones looked back at him, accepting the affection gratefully. He needed to be loved, even it was a front – but Yamamoto's emotions didn't seem like an act. Yamamoto was too sincere a guy to lie about such a delicate topic. He was a man that didn't waste words, much like Gokudera. It had been one of the things he found most endearing about the swordsman.

The Storm Guardian looked up at the Japanese teen, his smile small but still at least _there. _His eyes were still duller than there normally were, but he sensed life in them. He willed his partner to drag himself back into the realm of the living, and when he knew Gokudera wasn't about to collapse, he asked, "Do you think you'll be able to walk? We've got the motorbikes, but you've still got to get upstairs."

Gokudera grimaced, trying to nod, but his left leg wouldn't stop shaking, "Just my leg...fucking sore..." He rubbed his thigh, forcing blood into, but that only made it worse.

"Here, come on," Yamamoto said and gently hooked Gokudera's left arm over his. Gratefully, Gokudera leant on Yamamoto, reassured by his lover's sturdy form.

He absently wished he might have gone further with his partner, to have done more than just fool around – but he'd never been able to get past the ghosts of his past. Maybe now though...once Yamamoto knew...maybe things would be different...easier.

Or of course, Yamamoto could leave him. But he'd sworn he wouldn't and Gokudera would take him for his word.

"You do remember how to walk don't you?" Yamamoto joked when he'd tried to step forwards but Gokudera had stayed put.

The bomber looked at him wryly, "I may be emotionally unstable, but I'm not an invalid."

Yamamoto sighed, not liking the way his boyfriend was practically calling himself an emo, but still, they slowly made their way of the cell, Yamamoto's sword held out to anyone who dared attack them.

_Now I've got you, no-one's ever gonna touch you, _Yamamoto promised silently, _you'll see me dead before that happens._

* * *

Once the two boys reached the ground floor where the battle had been continuing whilst the boy's had their little 'moment' together, Gokudera was shocked by what he saw.

Reborn was stood by the doorway, his eyes dark, but a smirk on his face. If ever a baby could look like a demon, then Reborn fit the bill perfectly.

Ryohei was on the floor, out for the count, his left arm caked with blood, so much you couldn't see where the wound was.

Hibari was limping, his right arm limp, but stubbornly holding on to his tonfa. The other hand was still held up, ready to knock anyone down if they came within three feet of him.

Tsuna was what surprised them both the most.

There he stood, over Mukuro's still body, his subordinates – Yamamoto felt Gokudera stiffen at the sight of bother Mukuro and Chikusa – strewn across the floor like they'd just been defeated.

"Wow, you guys sure put on a show," Yamamoto whistled, catching everyone's attention.

Tsuna turned, his dying will flame ablaze, eyes calm and serene. It was always so strange to hear him speak when in dying-will mode. It was so matter-of-fact and unlike Tsuna's normal attitude.

"He shot himself," he said coolly, looking at the blue haired with a confused expression, "but said something like, 'I'll see you again'"

Gokudera frowned, "_arrivederci..._" He looked at Tsuna, "Why would he say something like that?"

Yamamoto chuckled, "Your Italian accent is so sexy."

Though still glum and very much depressed, Gokudera was able to stamp on Yamamoto's food, "Not the best time, Yamamoto."

The swordsman snickered, but he was glad Gokudera was acting more like his usual self. If only he wasn't putting up a front to the others. Only Yamamoto understood how fragile his calm demeanour was.

But with the way reborn was eyeing Gokudera sceptically, Yamamoto wasn't too sure if he was the only one that knew more about Gokudera than the others. But then, the infant knew nearly everything.

Before he understood what was happening though, Gokudera felt that same unbearable pressure crush his mental control. He cried out and dropped to the floor, clutching his shirt over his heart.

"Hayato!" Yamamoto's voice was beyond distressed. The last thing he needed was for Gokudera to have another 'episode'. And he'd thought the Storm Guardian had been handling it, at least until they got home.

"Get away from him Yamamoto," Reborn instructed with that voice that meant no 'if's or 'buts'.

"But, he's hurting!" Yamamoto shouted, overcome by panic. He didn't understand why Reborn had such a dark, sinister expression, or why his pistol was suddenly aimed at Yamamoto's head.

"If you won't move, I'll shoot you. It'll save you," the toddler barked. It was the first time Yamamoto had heard the child speak above a normal octave and decided it would be best to obey him.

Face contorted with malice towards his torn loyalty, Yamamoto took the necessary steps away from Gokudera who continued to reel on the floor, but only enough so Reborn would lower his gun.

It was a relief to see Gokudera stop struggling, but when he sank from his knees onto his face, Yamamoto ignored Reborn's warning glare and charged back towards his lover.

"Yamamoto _stop right now!_" the infant hitman yelled, the shockwaves that his voice gave off curdling the swordsman's blood.

_I can't though Reborn,_ Yamamoto apologised mentally, _I promised Hayato he wouldn't be alone – I can't break it, no matter how important your reason._

But the moment he was within a arm's length of his lover, Gokudera leapt to his feet and lunged towards Yamamoto.

Too shocked to block him, they fell to the ground in a heap, Gokudera's bruised fists coming down on every available inch of exposed skin.

Yamamoto cried out as he felt his face bruising under the Storm Guardian's iron fists, his body too heavy for him to shift without hurting him.

He lifted his hands up defensively, dropping his sword, shielding his face the way Ryohei had taught him to if he ever got into a fist fight and ended up on the floor.

"Hayato! Please, _stop!_" Yamamoto practically screamed. His lungs were raw and muscles aching under the merciless blows. The Guardian drove his fist into the Rain Guardian's rib cage, splintering one of his ribs. He chocked on blood, biting down on his tongue so he wouldn't retaliate. He wouldn't strike back. He couldn't. No matter what damage he took, he couldn't do such a thing. Not after he'd promised his lover.

But Gokudera's actions confused him and he felt a stiff jolt of betrayal. Why Gokudera? What have I done? Is it because I didn't confront you earlier? Is it because I didn't come to save you faster?

There was a flash of movement, a blur of brown, black and what looked like fire, and within a heartbeat, Gokudera was flung off him.

Yamamoto hurriedly sat up, but hissed as the damage to his ribs stopped him from straightening up fully. Damn, those punches hadn't been light. There had been real feeling behind those. But what were they?

The swordsman looked up and immediately ignored the pain in his ribs and launched to his feet, outraged by what he saw.

"Let go of him now Tsuna!" His tone held more bite to it than it should have, but only he knew how unstable Gokudera was right now, and wasn't ready to be a diplomat on the matter. He knew better than to give Gokudera special treatment, but given the situation, some slack had to be given.

Tsuna just looked over, but even in hyper dying-will mode, you could see the concern in his otherwise distant eyes.

"But...he was beating you senseless Yamamoto," Tsuna spoke cautiously, concerned for both his Guardian's. He held Gokudera by the collar at arms length, but he was shorter than the Italian and had needed to smack the boy across the face to still his struggling. He regretted it, but he didn't need anymore damage to be done.

"Tsuna, I'll say the same thing I did to Yamamoto. Get away from him."

Reborn's voice was definitely in a world of its own in how intimidating it was. If ever vampires existed, Yamamoto was sure they would have turned tail and run away screaming at his tone. It dripped with fury, outraged that he had been ignored by both Yamamoto and then insulted by his student's stupidity. Why would he have told Yamamoto to get away from the Storm Guardian if he wanted Tsuna to get closer?

"But he'll begin to hurt Yamamoto again," Tsuna argued.

The child fixed Tsuna with a glare sharper than glass shards, the iris so black and bottomless. They flared like black flames, and their depth told them both that the child hitman was well and truly pissed.

Reluctantly, Tsuna released his hold of Gokudera, stepping back as fast as he could, worried he'd become the temperamental teen's new punching bag. Never had the Italian raised a hand against Tsuna, but given what he'd just seen, he wasn't willing to take any chances.

"Both of you," Reborn's voice dripped with malice, "Look closer at your fellow comrade. You as well Hibari. You seem to be the only one here with enough sense to obey me."

The prefect scoffed, but said nothing. Yamamoto was certain the older boy had a very good defensive response to what Reborn had said, but knew better. Even he hadn't seen the child so upset.

"Does he look strange to you?"

Both Yamamoto and Tsuna bit back the urge to splutter, _uhh, he's been tortured Reborn...what did you expect? For him to be sitting down having tea with a new haircut?_

Yamamoto narrowed his eyes through the throbbing pain in his ribs, stepping to the side so he was leaning on his right leg to help.

As his vision focused on his lovers face, he gasped. Both shock and horror swooped down on him and dug their claws into his chest, and he wasn't sure which one won out.

Gokudera's left eye was red, the pupil distorted in the shape of some ancient Japanese character. Veins like paper folds creased out on his skin from the corner of his eye and the skin was a lighter shade, almost chalky in comparison to his otherwise creamy skin.

"My god..." Yamamoto breathed. Tsuna had noticed by now as well, but had kept whatever opinion he had on the matter to himself.

"_Ciao di nuovo,_" Gokudera spoke in his native tongue. Yamamoto had picked up enough to understand - _Hello again. _When Gokudera spoke Italian, Yamamoto always got chills, a shot of electricity that swam through his body like a hot current. The voice that spoke to him now made him cringe. It wasn't his lovers, but someone else's.

Had Gokudera just been _possessed?_

"Rokudo Mukuro," Reborn growled.

"No," Yamamoto gasped, looking over to the motionless body of the culprit, "But he's dead on the floor! He fricking _shot _himself in the _head_!"

Reborn looked about ready to snap, "Yes, well done Yamamoto, you have now established the obvious and caught up to everyone else."

The swordsman pursed his tight lips angrily. He turned to look back to Gokudera, but found the space where he'd been empty.

_What the-?_

"Yamamoto!" Tsuna cried out.

Too late.

Gokudera swept around him, ducking around his tall frame. He moved as swiftly as a bird in flight, astonishing for someone with injuries like Gokudera's.

Yamamoto swooped around, grunting at the protest his bruised ribs gave him, clutching his side, doubling over slightly, but still standing, facing the Italian.

"You've never been the sharpest tool in the box, have you Rain Guardian?"

The son of bitch. Using his lover's voice to insult him – if he wasn't in Gokudera's body, he would pound the life out of him.

"But," He spoke silkily, in a sickening, overly obnoxious manner, "You do sense more than you let on. Your social skills are far more acute than most would give you credit for."

Yamamoto was barely an inch away from his sword, especially with the way he was doubled over, and wondered if he'd be able to get it. He could do it. He could grab it, make a run for Mukuro's body and hold it hostage. There had to be a limit to possession. Surely Mukuro couldn't kill Gokudera.

Mukuro stepped closer – it was too insulting and _wrong _to think of him as Gokudera. Gokudera's body was there, but his soul, that was another matter. The thought shocked the Swordsman. He'd barely dragged his lover away from death's doorstep. He doubted he could do it again with such success.

The man got increasingly close, _intimately _close. His chest was pressed right up against Yamamoto's in a sexually suggestive manner, mouth close to the Rain Guardian's neck. It didn't excite him in any way though. If sent sparks of fear rattling through his bones and he wondered if this was the kind of horror Gokudera had felt. Was this something that his lover had had to experience?

"Your precious _comrade_," he laughed silently at the word, knowing how much Gokudera meant to Yamamoto, "is safely locked away. Until I release him, his body is mine to control; from the top of his head to the tips of his toes. They're all mine to command."

"Bastard," Yamamoto growled, pushing Mukuro away.

Mukuro made Gokudera's face sadden, an expression that dug a small hole in his chest. It was so similar to the look Gokudera had given him earlier. Which only infuriated the teen all the more - To gouge out his reactions by manipulating his feelings...what a sick bastard.

"Don't be so cruel. If you abandon me, I don't know what I'll do."

Yamamoto's face turned savage as he mocked Gokudera's pain, but he soon became horrified when the illusionist dragged his thumb across his throat, nail cutting a thin line across. Blood beaded around the broken skin, and he pierced the skin a little deeper by the corner, so much that there was soon a steady trickle.

"Stop it!" Yamamoto cried, making a dash for his sword.

But Mukuro was faster. He snatched up the weapon and wielded it as his own. His skill was nearly enough to outmatch Squalo as he approached Yamamoto.

"Yamamoto!" Tsuna shouted in horror.

Mukuro's eyes snapped over to the brown haired boy and he smirked, "Ah, the reward of my efforts."

He changed course towards Tsuna now, "I've had my fun with you. Now you will break and I will kill you, and finally bring about the destruction of the mafia."

He began to advance at a faster pace, but was slowed by Reborn's flat voice.

"You know I won't let you do that Mukuro."

His smirk just widened, "I'd like you to try and stop me Arcobaleno. You could I'm sure, but it would be at the cost of one of your valued Guardians."

Reborn's expression tightened, "Do not doubt me."

"Don't doubt me then," Mukuro countered and lunged for Tsuna.

Tsuna just stood there, unable to raise a hand against his comrade.

_No, _Yamamoto bellowed the word in his thoughts and all sense left him. If he did this, then maybe it would help give Gokudera the strength to fight for control of his body again. Maybe. It was reckless, but he wasn't going to just stand there and let Tsuna be killed.

Hibari looked torn between actually saving Tsuna's life and the after-effects of the act, so he instead just stood, holding his injured arm, dropping to his knees in exhaustion.

As the Rain Guardian charged towards Tsuna, his eyes locked with the Cloud Guardian's for a split second, but their intentions were understood.

_Hurry, _the dark grey eyes nearly pleaded. As much as the boy hated Tsuna and his pathetic, 'herbivore' ways, he didn't want him to die, no matter how often he bit the boy to within an inch of his life.

He dove in front of Tsuna just as Mukuro raised Yamamoto's sword in a graceful arc. He held it above his head, bringing it down quickly.

This was weird. Mukuro was too skilled to not be able to dodge Yamamoto's clumsy attempt at defending his friend, but the way Gokudera's eye colour kept shifting explained it all.

His lover was trying to fight for control over his body again. He refused to lay back and have his friends murdered before his eyes.

_I'm glad Gokudera. You're strong enough..._Yamamoto's expression softened in relief when Gokudera's eye colour flitted back to its original green hue. But the sword was already coming down; he could hear the clean 'shing' of metal slicing through air. Ironic that it was his own weapon that would end him.

The terror in his lover tore at the Rain Guardian's heartstrings, and he yearned for more time. He wished for those sweet moments they'd shared. He yearned to feel the warmth of his lovers body against his during the times when they fell asleep on the floor from cramming together, the petty arguments they had over coffee and the broken toaster or crappy internet.

_You're beautiful Gokudera, _his brown amber eyes spoke, filled with as much love he could, _but so is life. You can't give up on it. There's too much left in life for you to waste it over me._

The metal cut across his skin in a clean, swift arc, slashing him from his right shoulder down to his waist on the left hand-side.

The blade hadn't gone as deep as he'd thought though, and by the time he'd dropped to his knees, blood soaking both his shirt and pooling in his mouth, Gokudera had gained full control again and caught his lover before he fell onto the floor completely.

_I'm proud, _Yamamoto thought happily, glad to be in his lover's arms again, even if it may be the last, _you're special to me Gokudera. More than words can describe._

He felt his strength drain away as his blood flowed freely from his new wound, coating Gokudera's arms and chest.

"No," he whimpered, "_per favore, no, Yamamoto_!" He cried the last part.

_I love you Hayato, I always did, _the swordsman thought softly, going limp in Gokudera's arms, his soul thoughts blurring and dulling to a soft haze that let him ride down the current that led too unconsciousness.

* * *

"_Per favore, Dio, non fare questo, Yamamoto, per favore, no!_ _Tu non mi lasciare, non ancora!" _Gokudera's despair rattled its way through him in his mother tongue whilst his thoughts begged to any god that cared to listen, _Please, God...don't do this to me...don't...please...Yamamoto, don't! You can't leave...not yet...you just can't!_

He curled around the Rain Guardian's body protectively, rocking back and force, his eyes squeezed shut in horror of what he'd just done. How could he? He was a monster. A blackened, rotten monstrous thing, more beast than human. He could've stopped the sword, he was certain, but still his arm had followed through. He hadn't been fast enough. He hadn't been strong enough. And it had cost him the life of his only salvation.

Whatever black pit Yamamoto had managed to make Gokudera crawl out of, he knew he would soon be revisiting and taken a permanent residence at. With Yamamoto gone, he knew he wouldn't survive. He wouldn't cope – there wouldn't be enough strength and reason left for him to pull himself out of the clutches of sleep to face life. Not again – never. He would rather have had death take him, or be thrown into hell than have to bear this agony.

Just when he'd begun to think fate may have thought to let him live a little, it had instead taken him higher and dropped him again. And the further you climbed, the harder you fell.

Gokudera kept falling as he held his dead lover, his screams being torn from his very core, his soul shattering more with each woeful cry. Yamamoto had been the light in his life. With his reason gone, his world had dimmed once more.

"-dera. Gokudera Hayato!" a voice spoke louder now, cutting through his otherwise impenetrable misery.

Reborn stood by him with Tsuna, holding a first aid kit.

"Move, or he _will _die," Reborn ordered.

Gokudera just looked at the two of them blankly. Tsuna felt shocked by the lifelessness in his eyes and put a tentative hand on Gokudera's arms, surprised by how cold his skin was, "He isn't dead. We'll be able to save him. Look, he's still breathing."

Gokudera snapped his gaze down and the flood of relief had him stumbling away, eager to have his lover healed as quickly as possible.

_If I can hear him speak, maybe I won't lose it. As long as he survives, maybe I won't be left alone. Maybe I'll be able to explain, to beg for forgiveness. But will he forgive me? I fucking _stabbed _him! We can't just make up and go about your daily life with that hanging between us. Oh God, what if he hates me..._

Whilst Gokudera was floundering in his own misery, Reborn instructed Tsuna ruthlessly. It was an inconvenience to have such small hands, but as long as Tsuna followed his instructions, then they should have Yamamoto conscious in a good half an hour.

Reborn's only wonder was as the Vindice took away Mukuro and his subordinates – the infant couldn't help flinching at the bandaged guards in their top hats and black capes. Any hitman reacted to them in that way. You never knew if you were going to be carted on or not. They just appeared and took you away – was the damage that had been caused. Even with the sun affinity Ryohei possessed, it would take time for his injuries to heal. Hibari's arm was dislocated and had fractured three of his ribs. Tsuna had suffered the least damage, but Reborn knew the boy would feel it in the morning.

It was Gokudera that worried him the most. He hadn't pried too closely into the Italian's past, but knew it was far darker than most. The Arcobaleno wondered if the kid would able to hold out until they managed to resuscitate Yamamoto.

The infant looked back to the swordsman that was being bandaged vigorously by Tsuna, who'd already done everything Reborn had instructed. Impressive for a boy that had just fought an exhausting battle.

_You'd better get your butt back to reality Yamamoto. Gokudera's counting on it._

As if in response, the Arcobaleno swore he saw the swordsman's eyes twitch under his eyelids.


	5. Comfort of Lies

_**A/N:**__ Before I chatter away (I can tell I'm going to babble for this one D:) I'm really sorry if there were any grammatical errors in my last chapter (for the Italian mostly...) I don't speak a word of it, and in fact, I'm so bad at languages I normally get it confused with Spanish (face palm insert) so I relied on a translator for everything Gokudera said (but nearly everything spoken in Italian was written in English when he was thinking XD) If anyone who speaks Italian is appalled by the translators grammar (or not, it might be all correct :D) then please don't criticise me too much XD (Oh, and I don't know why my quote from the last chapter F***ed itself up...O.O centring text on hates me XD)_

_So... the angst now really begins to build up and the plot takes a bit of a turn ;D but don't worry yourselves too much – the comfort will begin soon XD (finally :P) The following chapters will probably be the hardest ones for me to write, mostly because I've never been in this situation (and would like to keep it that way) so, just so I don't offend anyone, this my impression of how I would imagine Gokudera and Yamamoto reacting and or expressing their emotions – kay? It's called artist's/author's expression :) _

_And thank you all so much for your wonderful reviews (I haven't got many, but each one of them is exactly what keeps these fingers skimming away 83 I would be lost without all your support ;D it fuels my greedy muse too) –looks to muse who is stuffing her face with chocolate. *sigh* you could at least be polite and eat like a human…- _

_But again, a brilliant song for this chapter and the next – Best of Me by Sum 41 (surprisingly it's rather melodic) and then there's Linkin Park's new song 'Iridescent'. Both are beautiful, and if you can be bothered to listen to either or both when reading this chapter, I don't know...I just think the music helps add to the mood of it ;D (At least that's what I do when I write :D)_

_Ok, my god...too much rambling...sorry! –Shuts up and writes- (but first...some sleep...)_

**Chapter Five - Comfort of Lies**

"_When you were standing in the wake of devastation  
When you were waiting on the edge of the unknown  
and with the cataclysm raining down  
your insides crying, "Save me now"  
You were there, impossibly alone._

__

Do you feel cold and lost in desperation?  
You build up hope, but failures all you've known.  
Remember all the sadness and frustration  
and let it go.  
Let it go."

**-Iridescent – Linkin Park**

There was the hum of voices in his ears. He strained away from them mentally, like retracting a hand. He wanted to sleep so badly. He'd been so worried...so caught up with things...when was the last time he'd gotten any good sleep?

His numb body slowly came to life again, and it wasn't too long before the noises of reality buzzed even louder in his head – a radio that was finally settling on a station.

He groaned, eyes breaking open slowly. Someone gripped his hand tightly at the movement, and he coughed, opening his eyes wider, "Ugh..." was the best he could manage. His vocal chords felt dry and he swallowed thickly.

"Takeshi?" A small, low voice asked quietly, husky with what he knew must be fear.

Yamamoto squirmed, feeling out his surroundings. He was lying on the floor, his right hand captured by Gokudera's he supposed. There was a stinging, no, raw burning sensation that cut across his chest, the pain washing over him in hot waves. It wasn't enough to engulf his senses, but it still made his head throb.

Just as he was about to push himself up onto his elbows, he was crudely kicked in the side of the face by someone's foot.

"Reborn!" Gokudera cried, shocked by the toddler.

"If he's awake, then he should get up. C'mon sleeping beauty," was all the toddler could be bothered to say, "You've got to get this one home."

Yamamoto's eyes had barely opened, but he turned his head slightly to find the toddler stood right by his face, pointing to Gokudera.

"H-How's your wound?" Tsuna asked quietly. He fidgeted with his gloves, eyes looking anywhere but at Gokudera.

Yamamoto shot him a smile like he would if someone had just told him he'd made the baseball team, "Just a scratch. Nothing more. Takes more than that to take me out."

"Unfortunately," Hibari said but was cut off with a sharp hiss. Ryohei had woken up, and with his first aid done on his damaged arm, he had Hibari in a strange sort of headlock, with Hibari's body pressed to his from the side.

"What on earth?" Yamamoto accidentally asked aloud. Looks like being hit around the head too many times shorted out his mental filter.

Gokudera spoke flatly, "He dislocated his shoulder. Ryohei's the only one that knows how to fix it."

There was a cracking sound, and it must have been painful, even for Hibari, who groaned as his shoulder was locked back into pace. Yamamoto couldn't help but cringe. That was his biggest fear in baseball. Dislocate your shoulder once, and it becomes a handicap. That shoulder will always be weaker and more prone to dislocation again.

Yamamoto stubbornly got to his feet, despite Tsuna's best efforts to get him to sit down and try to 'rest'.

"Am I allowed to go back on one of the bikes with Gokudera?" He asked, voice straining as he tried to hide how much his chest burned. He could sense it wasn't as deep as he thought, but definitely more than a scratch. He was impressed that Gokudera had managed it though – had Mukuro followed through without Gokudera's mental struggles, Yamamoto would be split in two. He had to give his lover more credit when handling a sword.

Reborn nodded, arms crossed, "You may. We won't be far behind you."

"Right," Yamamoto said absent-mindedly, pushing up with hands to get himself up onto his feet without straining his chest too much. Gokudera hooked his arms around one of Yamamoto's helping the Rain Guardian as best he could. He'd grown rather silent, and Yamamoto was worried about how distant those eyes of his were getting. After he'd gone to all that trouble to coax the bomber out of his shell, it'd be disastrous if he clammed up, especially when he had promised to be honest with the swordsman.

"C'mon Hayato," he said softly, hooking his arm over Gokudera's shoulder, and his over his own. This way both of them were borrowing strength from the other and though Yamamoto may be more physically wounded that his partner, he knew it was Gokudera that needed the most support.

As they trudged towards the line up of motor cycles, Gokudera couldn't help but wonder if Yamamoto was going to have a go at him or not. He knew the Rain Guardian had more than enough reasons to be angry at him, but didn't feel prepared mentally for the onslaught of criticism he knew he would have coming at him.

"T-Takeshi-?" He spoke his lovers name quietly whilst Yamamoto set up the bike.

Yamamoto looked up from where he'd been fumbling with the ignition key and smiled warmly, "yeah?"

Gokudera felt that intense bubbling lurch rise in his throat, feeling the strange warmth that came from it. Those eyes of Yamamoto's, so ready to forgive and move on. No, they _had _already forgiven him.

"Your...your sword..." The bomber mumbled, holding out the weapon, hands shaking on the hilt. He knew it, he was poison. This sword had won Yamamoto every battle, had saved his life more times than could be counted. It had become a second arm to Yamamoto, a bare extension of his body. They were one whenever he fought, moving at its masters will with more obedience than a marionette to its puppeteer. To have such a thing turned on its master, he could feel the sword pulsing furiously at Gokudera, could feel the aching weight of it in his palm, outstretched to the Rain Guardian. It was supposed to protect its wielder, not slaughter him.

Yamamoto took the blade from him, that same warm, open smile pulling at the corners of his lips, "Thank you Hayato. You kept it safe, thank you."

He swallowed thickly, his voice flat, "But not you."

Yamamoto sighed, storing his katana away in the bikes secret compartment before hooking a leg over the bike, resting down on its leather seat. The wheels of the bike crunched on gravel at the added weight.

This time it was Yamamoto's turn to beckon Gokudera closer. But he did it with his eyes. He knew words could be deceptive, and didn't want Gokudera to get the wrong impression. Words didn't matter to him, he took them as they came, but knew how suspicious Gokudera was of words. He knew they were two faced and could cut you down to a raw skittering wreck, but Yamamoto had nothing to say that would matter. All he could do was _feel_ what he knew couldn't be said, let them burn brightly within him, those precious emotions that defied explanation, and push that through with expressions and his eyes, hoping it would help Gokudera's pain fade. It had to; it was all he could do.

_Come on, _they invited, but there was an undercurrent. It wasn't a command, but close to one. He refused to allow Gokudera to sink back into that dark pool of misery, not when he could still help.

"But..." Gokudera began, starting to edge away. _If you show me kindness, I'll lock onto you, drain you dry. I can't...I just couldn't do that..._

"Hayato, you can't walk back."

There was a double entendre to that statement._ No, you couldn't get back to the house on foot,_ but also, _I won't let you go back to that near dead state. I won't let you lose yourself._

Gokudera didn't see the underlying edge to Yamamoto's words though, but still obliged and sat down on the bike, trying to distance himself as far away as he could without falling off.

Yamamoto revved the engine and threw it into gear and the engine kicked it forwards so quickly Gokudera thought he was going to slide off the back. He quickly wrapped his arms around Yamamoto's waist and held on like his life depended on it, even gripping the boys belt holsters.

Yamamoto laughed at Gokudera's sudden movement and his shuddering body ran through Gokudera's skin like molten honey, warming his skin.

The hum of the bike was soothing to Gokudera's cracked and fraying nerves, its continuous rhythm easing him into a sense of calm as he rested his head against Yamamoto's strong, muscled back. His eyes closed, his own breathing unconsciously synchronising with his lovers as he breathed in and out. He felt the steady thud of Yamamoto's heart, the tangible evidence that he was still there, still alive.

That he was still beside Gokudera.

A small smile broke across the Italian's solemn expression, cracking his otherwise expressionless mask. Yamamoto was more than he asked for, so much more than he deserved, but he knew he would make himself more worthy.

Except his sense of calm was shattered as a small voice inside his head reminded him of both what he had to tell Yamamoto, and what he'd done to him.

_He has to know, _the Italian thought, _it's not right for him to have done what he has and not know but...but..._

He felt the tide of madness wash in closer, the darkness ready to unleash its suffering agony on him once more. Numbness started to claim him again, his eyes slowly becoming lifeless once more as self-loathing consumed him. Yamamoto had done so much, saved him, loved him, and what had he done? He'd taken his sword and nearly murdered him with it.

His grip tightened on the swordsman's waist. He didn't want to let go of this boy, this brilliant soul that lit up his world and showed him the beauty of life that would still be cloaked in shadow without him. But...did he have the courage to be honest? Could he do it?

Tears welled up once more and leaked out from the corner's of his tightly closed eyes. He wept, both for his own suffering, the pain he'd thrown upon his lover, the misery he'd caused everyone, his own weakness, his sins, his overwhelming despair, but most of all, the loss of his innocence and the darkness that lurked in the hearts of all men. He knew better than anyone how thin the tightrope of life was, and how terrifying the darkness was. Even with Yamamoto safely within his grasp, he wept_. _

Wept for his lost mother, the cruelty life gave him, wept for how hard he'd fought and yet failed, wept from the pain of his scars, wishing that this wonderful boy in his arms could heal the scars even he could not reach.

_He_ _couldn't not care about Yamamoto. He had tried in the beginning, but his efforts were wasted on the gifted, almost adorable boy._

Gokudera knew all too well things didn't hurt you if you didn't care about them; He had learned that a long time ago, at too young an age. It had defined him, almost too much. The loneliness had moulded him into what he was now. It hurt to think it was the things you cared about that hurt you... that destroyed you so easily...He wished it wasn't true, but after what had just done to Yamamoto, he couldn't deny it.

Love could destroy you. Within moments.

* * *

The motorbike purred its way down the still suburban streets, its engine as low and rumbling as a prowling cat. The silence that had built up between the two boys wasn't uncomfortable, in fact, Gokudera felt grateful it. He appreciated Yamamoto's ability to know when to shut up and let someone think. He was strangely talented in that area of expertise. He knew when someone was quiet because they were lost in their own thoughts, but also knew when someone was slowly losing it. It was a remarkable talent, and he was sure the baseball fanatic would exploit it tonight.

Gokudera hopped off the bike first when they arrived back at the house, but made no attempt to help Yamamoto get off. The swordsman didn't need any help, but even so, it would have been polite. Gokudera smarted at the distance he was putting between them, but knew it was his only way of keeping control.

Yamamoto parked the bike, wrestled to get his katana out from that fiddly little secret compartment under the seat, then killed the engine, pocketing the keys. He walked on to the front door, unlocked it and held it open, free arm held out to Gokudera.

"We're home you know. You can go in." He was saying more than necessary, but thought the Storm Guardian needed it. He had to be shown that whatever he was going to tell him, it didn't affect him. He had to make sure Gokudera was confident with his relationship between him and Yamamoto, or else he knew he would clam up and shut him out.

Gokudera slipped by him into the darkened house silently, making his way immediately up the stairs. Yamamoto sighed at the sound of the shower being turned on. He had to admit, Gokudera deserved at least a little peace. But despite that, he was worried. He felt like if he left the boy alone for too long, then that cold dull nothingness would swallow him again.

_Hayato, just what happened to you?_

* * *

Gokudera was too exhausted to take off his clothes when he started the shower.. He felt so grimy and filled with filth that he knew even if he scrubbed himself raw, he would only have broken the surface.

_No, _he snapped angrily, _stop it. Enough with the self wallowing. _

Angrily, he turned up the cold nozzle, ducking his head under the cold current, hissing at its sudden temperature. It helped clear his head though, even if just temporarily.

As his dark thoughts slowly receded, along with that insatiable wailing, he pounded his fist into the tiled wall, the dull jolt of pain helping him keep a firm yet still barely-there grasp on reality.

_It was time. He should have done this long ago. Yamamoto wanted answers and he was going to give them to him, no matter what. Some of the answers he couldn't fully possess right now... but he would. He knew that behind that chained door and window in his mind was the darkest, blackest part of his past, one which he had sealed off long ago so the hurt wouldn't kill him. No matter what, he would break through it. It was time to see and remember what he had been running from for so long. The time to cower away and run was finished. He had to stand and fight his demons. Or be left dead._

In his anguish, he found a strange burst of strength, or maybe it was just his desperation to live up to Yamamoto's expectations. These memories had too much power over him; they had done for far too long.

They had some kind of hold over him that had made Yamamoto hurt and even himself in a way he'd never, ever dared to imagine. Gokudera needed to know why. Neither of them had suffered through this to have him back out like a coward.

In his mind, he strode up to the menacing looking oak door, painted white like the panes of the window frame. The chains looped around its frame seemed so frail.

_Enough, _he thought with his newly found strength. He didn't know how long this strength would last, and decided to throw himself into it like he did a fight.

First he tackled the window. In his thoughts, he struck through the glass, the black glass shattering under his fist. The muffled screams suddenly took on a whole new level of loud, consuming his senses.

Struggling through the quaking screams, he took a firm hold of the lock on the chains, planting his foot on the door for leverage. He pulled with all the strength he had, grunting and screaming in frustration. The rusted metal finally gave, and the chains fell away into nothing.

_Come on, _Gokudera thought as he hunched himself over in the shower, the water now so cold he could feel his body shudder with each breath, _open. Come on!_

With a roar, he kicked forwards, opening the door in a truly Gokudera-style fashion.

The onslaught of fear tore at him, the shame and carnage that lay just beyond the doorframe clawing into his heart, its white hot claws raking his chest.

No, he was not going to run and hide and nurse his hurts in solitude. He wouldn't run and lock away his pain in a box and hope it stayed there, quiet and obedient. Pain didn't work that way. It poisoned, rotted and dug its roots in deeper, sucking you away into it bit by bit. But enough was enough. He and Yamamoto had nearly destroyed themselves and each other in the past when they'd first started their relationship because they both retreated too easily. They would hide away in their own protective silence if ever their hearts were in danger of being hurt.

Both had been wary of each other, and their emotions so out of control in the beginning that they didn't have a clue what to do with themselves, much less the other person's feelings.

But since then, Gokudera had learnt a thing or two, including the fact that his and Yamamoto's relationship was worth fighting for. It was worth the pain of his memories and the struggle and the agony he had to endure. If he couldn't understand what was going on in his own head, then Gokudera was just going to have to _force _himself to understand.

_Fuck you and your screams; _he thought furiously, _this is _my _fucking life! _I'm _the one that controls it – not some fucking memory!_

He knew his masquerade was frail in its strength, but it was what he needed to strive onwards and walk through the doorway into the black chasm.

* * *

Yamamoto had been sat on the couch, head in his hands for a good hour and a half now. He'd known the best option had been to give him time. He'd gone to get changed and was now sat in jeans and a navy t-shirt. He struggled to keep control of his breathing, each thought anticipating what it was Gokudera was going to tell him.

He was just about to make his way up to the shower room to make sure Gokudera hadn't fallen asleep in the bath or something when a gut wrenching, blood curdling scream of raw, intense agony bit through his skin. It echoed off the walls in the empty house and was so strong Yamamoto thought he'd been mentally kicked.

"Hayato!" He yelled, leaping to his feet.

He bounded up the stairs at break neck speed, taking three at a time.

He tore around the corner and down the corridor towards the shower room. He could still hear the rushing water, but there wasn't any steam coming out from under the door like there usually was.

He threw open the door and froze. The instant he set foot in the frigid room, Yamamoto's heart filled with dread.

Gokudera's aura was so suppressing Yamamoto thought he would be driven into the floor with how heavy and opposing it was. It practically dimmed the room into total darkness and the brutal force of it threw his head straight into an immense migraine.

"Hayato!" He called out through the rush of water and haze of stars that burst across his vision.

As he made his way into the room, shutting the door behind him lest Bianchi came in, Yamamoto was shocked by what he saw.

Both mirrors and some of the lights had looked like they'd exploded, the glass splintered and smashed, littering the tiled floor and sinks. Thin trails of blood clung to the mirror edges that stayed held in place on the wall, a small crater splintering the glass inwards.

What had Gokudera done? Their sanitary items, shavers, tooth brushes, tumblers, shampoo, everything had been either ripped apart or shattered.

Yamamoto's heart leapt into his throat savagely, but after a few moments as he willed his heartbeat to slow, did he notice the crumpled figure huddled in the corner of the enormous shower stall.

"Hayato," he uttered the name like a prayer and made his way over to his lover.

He found him pressing himself into the furthest corner of the stall, fully clothed, body slumped in the corner, legs pulled up, arms hugging himself, rocking back and forth, shivering under the cold blasting water.

With a flick of his wrist, Yamamoto turned down the cold and evened it out with the heat so it was just hotter than lukewarm. The last thing he wanted was to give Gokudera chill-blains.

The silverette's fingers clawed his bare forearms ruthlessly, eyes staring ahead blankly, so lost and trapped in his own hell that it killed Yamamoto inside to look for too long.

The boy's nails just kept on clawing, deep enough to draw blood. The frightening shadow of despair in the boy's eyes crept closer, forging onwards steadily, ready to take full control of the Italian's psyche. Gokudera shook and cried silently, the running water diluting his tears. But the swordsman saw how blood shot and red-rimmed his lover's eyes were and just knew. The Italian hadn't looked up when Yamamoto had entered – he didn't even seem to know he was there. He seemed entirely unaware of his surroundings, a blind lamb in a field with nowhere to go. His eyes were glassy and sightless, more than shell-shocked – they were dead.

Gokudera was dead – figuratively. Whatever he'd let himself dwell on whilst running the shower, it had obviously dug under his skin and thrown him over the edge.

Yamamoto's heart pounded in his chest, wanting to burst out of his ribcage and replace Gokudera's broken one. He wanted to cradle his soul in his hands and heal it with all he had, but knew if he didn't act soon, Gokudera would be beyond repair.

He fell to his knees, the warm water immediately soaking him, "Hayato...Hayato! What the hell are you doing?" He tried to drag his lovers clawed hands away from his obsessive clawing, but the stunned Italian was too strong to restrain. "Damnit, stop it, please! Hayato!"

Still Gokudera didn't register his presence, even when Yamamoto shook him, softly at first, almost gently, but then his movements became more urgent, wanting to pummel a response out of the boy. Still he got nothing, not even when his hands gripped Gokudera's forearms bruisingly tight.

_Shit, what was wrong with him? Hayato...oh God...what do I do?_

While the water trickled down his face, the boy just stared onwards sightlessly, looking and god knew what, tears down his cheeks at a horrendous rate, trailing down well worn tracks.

"Please Hayato, say something, _please. _What's wrong? Look at me! Hayato, please!" Yamamoto felt whatever control he'd built up crumble, and he was beginning to feel both disturbed and exceedingly frightened.

The small, heart rending sounds of his lover's sobs that wracked his entire shivering body were his only reply. Whatever private hell that had been incarnated for his eyes only his lover had been trapped in, it must be beyond horrifying. Yamamoto was desperate to drag him out, but he didn't know how anymore, nothing seemed to be working. Before, Gokudera had at least _responded. _This time, he just rocked back and forth, his sobs of intense despair the only proof he was still alive in there.

In his desperation and increasing panic, Yamamoto tried to force his rain affinity to calm and sooth his lover, forcing his flames to enter the boy's body and calm his nerves. All that did was make Gokudera shudder and recoil.

In desperation, Yamamoto cracked his palm across Gokudera's face, but all that did was knocked his face in the wall, and there it hung, eyes still vacant and lost to the darkness.

"Hayato!" Yamamoto screamed, crying now too, hugging his lover as tightly as he could. To Yamamoto's surprise, this made his lover jolt, and even resist a little, but the moment was lost, and Gokudera just went still, unable to rock backwards and forwards when held against the wall by Yamamoto's strong body. Even slapping the Italian hadn't gotten his attention; it didn't even seem to have registered with the boy.

Yamamoto could feel his heart constricting, lungs straining as stress began to thwart his insides. His blood thrummed in his ears, eyes blurring with tears as he looked at his catatonic lover.

"Please Hayato...you promised me...you _promised me!_" He dipped his head as he bellowed the words in despair, tears streaming from his eyes, fist slamming into the slick tiled wall, "Come back to me damnit! Please!"

Minutes past, with Yamamoto clutching Gokudera for all he was worth, willing life to come back to his lover. Still the water flowed freely from the shower head, and it was a while before Yamamoto gave up and switched it off. Gokudera looked like a doll with those eyes of his and when he was this still, you wouldn't have thought otherwise.

Tenderly, Yamamoto picked Gokudera up into his arms, hugging the cold body to his, chin trembling and stepped out of the stall, shouldering open the door and walked soundlessly into his bedroom. He laid Gokudera down on his bed, and stood there for a moment, just staring.

He was too numb to really think anymore, and let his body do the work. He undressed Gokudera, stripping him down till he was naked, and then himself, chucking their dripping clothes into the laundry basket. He brought out a pair of baggy jeans and a simple black t-shirt for Gokudera and dressed him quickly, not forgetting to put boxers on the boy first. He then dressed himself in similar attire, except he was in grey shorts and a matching grey shirt. It seemed to suit his ashen heart.

_Where have you gone Hayato? Why can't I find you?_

"There's one other thing you _could_ do."

The young voice shocked Yamamoto out of his dulled numbness and he whirled around to see Reborn stood on their coffee table, eyes earnest and even concerned. He didn't even bother getting angry at the toddler for having just sauntered in. At least the door was closed, so if any of the others were there, they would know better than to barge in.

Yamamoto looked back to Gokudera's still unseeing eyes that stared at the ceiling now. He was still breathing, thank God, but seemed well and truly in a catatonic state.

"The boy was a moron and released his emotions in one big blast. I'm surprised he didn't mentally implode from it all."

Yamamoto looked at him blankly, "what?"

Reborn shrugged and walked towards Gokudera, having hopped off the table, "I don't know all the details, but I do know that whatever Mukuro did to him, it wasn't enough."

Yamamoto just gave him another blank look.

"You know how Mukuro exploits your worst fears and memories?"

Yamamoto nodded, deeming that the best response.

Reborn looked to Gokudera's face, "It seemed he couldn't exploit _everything. _According to Bianchi, something happened that was so awful, so traumatising, that Gokudera's mind blocked it off. Shut it away. Quite startling, but not uncommon in traumatised children. It's a natural method of survival. If something is too much to handle mentally, then the brain forces itself to temporarily forget it until it thinks it can. Sometimes the memories come back slowly, sometimes they don't at all and you're left with the ghost of them. It seems Gokudera," He looked to the boy and then back to Yamamoto, "forced himself to remember. Quite dangerous if you ask me. He could very well die from this – that's how much stress this boy is under."

Yamamoto swallowed. Had Gokudera done that for him, knowing that Yamamoto had wanted to know the whole truth? Oh god, if _he'd _caused this, been the reason for the unravelling of Gokudera's sanity, he didn't know what he'd do. Probably die.

"Oi, get a hold of yourself Yamamoto."

Yamamoto gulped again and hugged himself, suddenly cold, "Is there a way for me to save him?"

Reborn looked troubled but answered, "There is, but it's untested."

Hope, the evil emotion, made his voice catch, "How?"

Reborn looked to him seriously, "If you do it, I think it should work. A Guardian with the affinity for rain should have a higher chance of coaxing Gokudera's soul back into a semi-stable state. Once he's woken up, the real coaxing will be up to you."

Yamamoto sighed, a huge weight taken off his chest, "So there _is _a way then?"

Reborn nodded once, "But it's difficult."

"What is it?"

"You have to put your consciousness in his. Don't look at me like that," the child growled when the swordsman regarded him like he'd sprouted another head.

He sighed, crossing his arms, "If you were any other Guardian with a different flame, it would be too dangerous, your flame would run the risk of either draining the rest of Gokudera's own flame, or you would sucked into Gokudera's consciousness. Then you both would die. No body can sustain two souls for very long. It's impossible. With your rain flame though, its soothing effect should cancel out the storm flame's fury."

"T-then, how do I do it?"

Reborn gave him a small, sober smile, "You just have to channel your own mind into Gokudera's, like a channel of some sorts. It sounds very far fetched, but it was a method that was created and then discarded by the first Mist Guardian."

_Discarded, _the word didn't help Yamamoto's confidence at all. No-one liked trying out a scrapped idea.

"But with you," Reborn spoke like he had read his thoughts, "you have fifty-fifty chance of it working. It's worth a shot Yamamoto. You don't have any other alternative and Tsuna needs his Storm Guardian back."

Yamamoto nodded and looked at Gokudera longing, his heart aching. His eyes had closed and looked almost peaceful as he lay there breathing soundly, but those tears that kept on falling down his face were proof that there was still something very, _very _wrong with him.

"Well, I'll be going then," the toddler said, before closing the door behind him. The kid really knew how to appear and then disappear.

Yamamoto walked over to the door, locking it quietly. Now would definitely be the worst time for someone to come on in uninvited, and Yamamoto wanted to make sure he got this right. He knew he only had one shot and he'd be damned if he fucked it up because of some so-and-so coming into to borrow some deodorant.

Walking back to Gokudera's bed, he sat down on the edge of the bed and took a deep breath, centring himself as best he could, focusing his flame internally and leant down slowly, gently pressing his forehead against Gokudera's, brushing away his damp silver locks.

_C'mon, c'mon, _he chanted in his thoughts, imagining a channel, opening himself up as fully as he could, focusing his whole being into one spot, exactly where their foreheads were touching.

_I am what you are Hayato. Your pain is mine as well. Please, it's enough for you to just live – please, just come back to me. Or at least let me come to you. I'll bear the burden with you_

With that thought, Yamamoto felt a lurch and fought himself not to resist it. It went against his instincts, but he let the sensation drag him forwards. It was like the sudden plunge when you're at the peak of a roller coaster. He felt himself rocking forwards, about to plunge into freefall, and had to force himself not to scream. It was all figurative, but the image suited the moment pretty well.

The mental connection was weak, but with each passing second, as Yamamoto managed to channel his consciousness into his lovers bit by bit, it grew stronger, like a light beam that slowly brightened.

He found his body synchronising with Gokudera's, his breath as even as his, heartbeats nearly identical as their minds merged. It wasn't something you did very often, and the closeness really made Yamamoto feel naked.

Forging onwards into Gokudera's mind, Yamamoto concentrated on what he needed to do. To find Gokudera, to take him away from whatever hell was sucking out his soul and slap him back into reality, no matter how painful it was. If he could share the burden with the Italian, maybe it would ease the pain. It had to. The Japanese teen was out of options otherwise.

As he delved deeper, Yamamoto struggled to keep on walking from the onslaught of agony and despair. The emotions swarmed around him like a ferocious gale, tearing at him and stripping him bare.

Shame nearly brought him to his knees, and self-loathing almost made him want to end his own life. It took a few, forcedly measured heartbeats for him to understand that these weren't his emotions, but instead Gokudera's. He reeled at their intensity, from his chaotic confusion, but forged onwards in their connection, searching for his lost lover faithfully.

Thoughts and images swirled around him like a hurricane, with a live audio feed blaring various shrieks and voices all clustered together into an enormous gibbering monster. Yamamoto covered his ears as he moved onwards. If he was beginning to see glimpses of Gokudera's past, then he must be closer to him than he thought. The sound was so loud it could outmatch a gale, his mental voice carrying less strength than a breath.

The very state of his lover's mind was a shock in itself. It was just so black, so empty and filled with such dark emotions he felt he should just curl up and cry.

But there, amongst all the chaos, at the deepest part of his lover's mind, further than he thought he could ever venture, further than he had dared at first, he found.

He found Gokudera.

He was huddled in nearly the exact same manner that he had been in the shower, but though there wasn't much of a physical presence, Yamamoto found his own thoughts interpreting it in a visual way. Gokudera's position made it look like he was hiding, trying to ball himself up enough that he could just disappear, pushing himself in a corner.

It was strange how this realm defied anything logical and wondered if Mukuro or Chrome had much experience with these things. They probably did, being both illusionists and mentalists. Everything Yamamoto saw, or what he thought he saw, was always expressed as a metaphor. It seemed to be the only way to describe it. Everything else defied any concrete sort of description. It would have ended up a long list of contradictions as it became one thing and yet not at the same time. Nothing could be rationalised or related to. You just had to take it as it came.

Which was exactly what Yamamoto was doing.

Walking towards him, Yamamoto filled his thoughts with genuine relief, love and overflowing reassurance, more than he should have been able to muster. He was already trying to coax and soothe his lover, and hadn't even touched Gokudera yet. He just wanted to bring him out of the darkness. To show him how to live again, to prove how it was worth living, that this was no way to die.

But Gokudera's mind was a formless void, and his form was small, so small, and looked so fragile and it shrank back, away from the wave of warm sensations the Rain Guardian gave off.

_Please, _Gokudera's voice cut through the noise of his emotions, so clear...but so sad...so regretful...so fricking _alone._

_You'll hate me if you see what I am. You'll despise me like I despise myself. You shouldn't know Yamamoto. You shouldn't even be here...please...go before I drag you down with me...I'm so dirty Yamamoto...so filthy...It'll never be the same...I'll never be able to forget._

This wasn't Gokudera. It wasn't the boy he'd fallen in love with, Yamamoto knew that. The darkness clung to him like a vice, chaining him to his memories, trapping him in this labyrinth of pain. It was a tangible thing, with coiling tendrils, darker than black, sucking away at whatever brightness was left in Gokudera's life.

Clenching his teeth and centring himself, Yamamoto dove forwards, battling through the thick overwhelming haze. He clutched onto the quivering form of his lover and stuck fast, shocked at the cold vacuum inside the dark clutches of his misery.

_It will be the same. Nothing could change. I'll know, but that'll only make me stronger – more determined to protect you. Please Gokudera, don't think so little of me. Tell me what's hurting you – don't shut me out like everyone else..._

Gokudera sobbed, a wracking shriek of agony, something that he knew shuddered through his own soul, blackening it to Gokudera's one shade of darkness.

_You're like a sun Yamamoto, _Gokudera thought feebly, trembling, _I'm just a black, cold star. I can't handle it...I can't..._he broke off, wanting to greedily run into his lover's soft warm glow and bask in it until he was cleansed. In his own consciousness, in contrast to Yamamoto who saw images, Gokudera saw light. Yamamoto's was bright and near blinding in its purity and drove away any darkness that touched him. He moved like a God, purifying everything he touched, giving everything but taking nothing.

It was so different, so tempting, so damn _compelling. _Gokudera wished he was that pure, that his own flame burned so brightly. But he was a shadow of his own potential. Despair yawned, a black chasm under him, and it was only Yamamoto's plead that gave him the strength to force it closed.

_You promised me! You promised to be strong and tell me, yet you broke it! You left me, all alone, and I thought you'd _died _Gokudera! You were so cold, so...lifeless, you should have been dead!_

Gokudera was chilled, feeling colder than he was already. So it was true. Love did kill people. Here was the proof. But he didn't regret it though. Yes, he'd almost died when breaking through his own mental barrier, but it'd saved him as well. Slowly, he felt that wailing reflection of his sinking into his body, becoming one with him, letting go of the pain, but then of course, that left the memories to swarm and engulf.

Shame smothered him like a thick falling curtain, but there was Yamamoto again, wrenching him out, refusing to let him fall under. Fuck, he was just too good for him – he always was. The guy didn't deserve to deal with this.

Yet he'd pleaded, no, he'd _begged _to know. He'd literally gotten down on his knees like he was now, his white–blue glow shortening as he held him, his voice rasping hoarsely, always the same plead.

He really wanted to know...he actually wanted to understand...

Whatever remnants of a barrier Gokudera's had kept his memories from fully entering Yamamoto crumbled and he allowed full entry. Yes, he was vulnerable, raw and broken into pieces, but if he had any faith and any trust in his lover, he knew he would try to heal him. Yamamoto was a man of his word, honourable in his promises. Gokudera gripped the glowing white-blue blaze slowly purifying Gokudera's changing it from its now blackened, blotched gray colour back into a blazing red. It was slow, and painful, but slowly, the two consciousnesses merged and Yamamoto was plunged into Gokudera's memories.

It pained Gokudera, clawing at already raw spot in his chest, to know that by doing this, by opening himself so fully, appeasing Yamamoto with such submission, he was going to lose him...but still...he had to hope...it was a bare thread in the darkness...but the boy would be damned if he didn't at least grab onto _something._

With a lurch, there was a sudden blast of pictures and sounds around Yamamoto, but when they had been undistinguishable noise before, they now made perfect sense, flowing, if jaggedly, but smoothly across his field of vision. The vision's sucked him in, and Yamamoto wondered what kind of realm _this _would be.

It seemed non-linear, in the sense that the images didn't pass by like a movie...that was too clear, too tangible. There wasn't a storyline with a beginning, middle and end. This was a _life, _something that never really began at a certain point, and hadn't ended – it didn't really follow any sort of order – chronologically or alphabetically. It was a line that stretched out to the horizon, or, if that wasn't enough, the view of the night sky. You knew there was no beginning and no end to what you saw, but somehow, one day, it had end.

Just not today. Yamamoto would bargain his life in exchange for Gokudera's safety.

One memory in particular spun into focus, vividly assaulting him with its flashes of colour as it slowly focused, forming into a real place - A mansion.

The focusing image was shown to Gokudera as well and the boy cried out, terrified and hid his eyes, but it wouldn't block it out. He could imagine the approaching images, the groans, the pain, the harsh slap of a whip and the hot, jolting pain.

Gokudera wanted to die. There was no hyperbole in his request; it was pure, raw, naked truth. Even though he'd seemed distant and controlled earlier when Yamamoto had rescued him, he'd still been reeling, his mental state overcome and clouded by his trapped feelings that had nearly destroyed him all those years ago. Even now, knowing the consequences, he craved silent death over the agony of living with this shame, but death had turned him away.

He'd wanted to fade away, so had made the water so cold, had made sure there was no hot water at all. He'd wanted to die painfully, to get hypothermia and die a cold death. Maybe the numbness would have taken the edge off the pain before the end. It hadn't worked though, and he'd been too cowardly to go and find a razor. But, god help him, if this happened again, if what happened to him happened again, he would do it. No matter how the sight of his own blood terrified him, he would take the blade to his skin and cut until he bled himself dry. He wouldn't survive this again. His desperation would win out over common sense and he would commit the tragic act, daring Death to turn him away when he had no blood left in his body to keep him away from his doorstep.

Even with Yamamoto here now, the edge to his jagged memories was only _just _dulled, and still cut deep, tearing open his wounds. Reliving through all that had almost claimed his sanity barely a few years ago was nearly too much to bear, but with the Rain Guardian here to soothe those wounds, to help coax him out of this hell. Maybe it was possible, but until Yamamoto saw the depth and extent of his scars, it wouldn't be possible.

Whatever happened here, Yamamoto was fairly certain that things which would normally take hours to happen or even explain in real life took barely a few heartbeats here. It was like when you could imagine a whole essay in your head within a few moments, and understood it all immediately, but would then sigh when you had to put it to paper. It would take hours to get the tangible evidence of the thought, but had taken barely a few breaths to imagine. This was exactly the same; it flowed into the rain guardian with ease.

He made sure that whatever he touched, no matter how jagged, he would put all his energy into soothing it, smoothing out its edges, collecting up the pieces and piecing them back together with care. No matter how awful, these memories had made Gokudera what he was today, and that was precious to Yamamoto. He wouldn't let go of the boy so easily.

He knew how raw these memories were to Gokudera and tried as hard as he could to ease the pain that was so obviously tearing him apart bit by bit. He felt relieved as Gokudera's consciousness seemed to sigh, relaxing slightly under the soothing flame, but still the memories came and soon Yamamoto was engulfed, so caught up by the images he couldn't keep up.

Despite the calming of Gokudera's consciousness, his voice wafted into Yamamoto's thoughts, giving him one last plea.

_I didn't remember Yamamoto. Not this...I did for everything else...just not...not the fire...not what I did...I..._

He broke off into an anguished sob, but forced himself to stay afloat in the sea of guilt that threatened to drown him. If he broke down and shattered now, he knew what the effects would be on Yamamoto. Now he was so deeply in his mind, if he were to die, then so would Yamamoto. He wouldn't be able to retract back into his own mind in time. He had to stay strong to keep his lover alive. He didn't want to see the outcome, to see Yamamoto's reaction, but if he cared at all, then he would strive to live...to stay alive long enough for Yamamoto to escape.

But still, his tone betrayed whatever strength he felt and Yamamoto knew it. He didn't have to be told. Gokudera's tone told him he wanted no forgiveness from the swordsman, none at all.

He thought he deserved absolutely none.

Yamamoto felt the memory, the past Gokudera had fought to control and keep hidden rear its ugly head and open its jaws under him. Ready to leap in, Yamamoto cupped his hands over his mouth, and boomed the confession.

_I love you, Hayato Gokudera. I'll be insulted if you forget that!_

And let the memories take him.

_**A/N:**__ well, isn't _that _a cliff-hanger :D Sorry about that! Honestly, I am already writing the next chapter, and honestly, I'm actually both enjoying it and not enjoying it at the same time XD I feel like I might be making Gokudera a little _too _wishy-washy, maybe making too big a deal out of this, but I hope it doesn't come across that way O_o I want it to seem that it's actually _that _painful, because it seems that cases like Gokudera's do lead to suicides. Again though, this is my own imagination at work here, ok? I've never dealt with this kind of situation, so I'm taking it as it comes and going with my gut on most of it XD I hope the next chapter doesn't take too long to write, because I know how infuriating cliff hangers are D: I would have incorporated it with this chapter, but it's just so long…D: It should be up within the next few days, Sunday at the latest – so...wait in suspense until then :3 and thank you so, SO much for reading this XD (again...another long A/N –shot-) I'm sorry, I'll stop babbling and go back to writing the next chapter XD_


	6. Look Back, Don't Stare

**A/N: **_Dun-dun-duuhh, let the past commence :D Prepare yourself because honestly, this one is an absolute MONSTER! It's so long...*keeps on scrolling...oh my god...* I'm wondering whether to leave the last half of Gokudera's past up for another chapter, to help it flow when it comes back to Yamamoto and everything, but I'll just have to wait and see what the two guys want :D (looks over to Gokudera and Yamamoto on my bed. Gokudera: You...*glare* Why was _I _the one that had to have the shit past? Yamamoto: Aww, but that just means I can love you all the more *hugs him rugby tackle-style* Gokudera: Shit! *falls down* Me: *drools and then gets back to writing while they mess around on my bed XD*) –shot– ok, I'll start now, I'm sorry but I just couldn't resist :D _

_Best song for this chapter : Entwine – Until the End and then I will Never be the Same – Cry Little Sister_

_By the way, I'm going based on the idea that Gokudera met Tsuna when he was fifteen, and so, coz of that, you can work out how old I've set the characters ;3 (or if you can't be bothered – Yamamoto and Gokudera are 17 now ;D *in the present*)_

**_Warning: _**_This chapter included non-con, severe yaoi, extreme lemons and rape. If you don't like this, then please don't read this chapter and wait for the next one. I don't want to offend or traumatise anyone O.o otherwise, enjoy(?) -Me: how can you enjoy rape? Muse: *shrugs* Me: aren't you a help...-_

**Chapter Six – Look Back, Don't Stare **

"_You need to watch the pain  
burning in front of you  
you need to stay away from all those things that you do  
I might seem too soft but I can feel it all, the pain is real._

_You need to look away  
I know it's hard to do  
you need to stay away from all those things that you do  
I was there for you to burn me down again  
my fire is in your eyes."__**  
**__-_**I will never be the same - Burn**

_[Five years ago]_

It hadn't been an especially outstanding day. The boy had gotten up, been dressed and sent down to the main quarter on the estate to attend his piano lesson.

Well, it hadn't really been a piano lesson. But the boy remembered a kind teacher he had once had, with long flowing silver hair like his own, and warm, familiar eyes.

He felt his fists in his pockets clench even tighter at the memory.

_Mother..._he thought the melancholic thought with great adoration for the woman - Every year he would come down here to feel as close to her as he dared without opening up the old wounds. He would sit at the grand black piano and look at it, reminiscing for those days when things had been so much simpler. Knowing he was the bastard child, it meant he would never inherit his father's title. It would all go to Bianchi. She was the rightful heir, amongst mafia, your gender meant nothing. As it should – a woman could be just as ruthless a leader as a man.

_Happy twelfth birthday to me, _a voice murmured almost silently in his thoughts, a small blessing. If only _one _thought his birthday wasn't something to be mourned, then maybe he would be able to smile without that shadowing sadness. But that would only disgrace his mother's memory. This was the only day when his father would even acknowledge her existence, and if he had to mope about like a sullen brat to make sure of that, then he would.

He took his usual seat down on the leather stool, lifting the lid of the piano softly. It was a beautiful instrument, one he'd learnt to play all by self-teaching. He was far from brilliant, but whenever there were important guests at the mansion, his father always made sure he played for them. The music was always chosen for him and when there weren't guests, the instrument was off-limits to the boy. Except for today though – even his father had enough of a heart to at let the boy have this much of his mother's past.

Slowly, closing his eyes and blocking out the world with well accustomed ease, the boy let his fingers channel his emotions into the keys. His style was raw, unrefined and unique to say the least. But still, it held a melody more sophisticated than even Beethoven's fifth. It was a woeful harmony of deep, nerve-shuddering chords with the partnering of soft soprano and alto octaves that flitted across his right hand. He would play this melody every year, and knew everyone in the mansion could hear it. In his head, he heard an orchestra of accompanying instruments and the soft wafting melody of a choir. It all melded into a gentle, melancholic performance and it wouldn't be long until the boy was lost in his own world.

He was so lost in his own world, lifting his fingers from the keys for a split moment, ready to continue when he felt a presence. He'd been so consumed by his own world that he didn't notice the presence of several men behind him, silent as air, but he was made very much aware of them when a black strip of fabric was wrapped tightly around his mouth, blocking off any scream he might have had the chance to make. Before he was able to spin around, the long black cloth was coiled around his eyes, having been wound around his head and then over his eyes twice before being tied off at the back of his head.

He struggled as he was thrown from the piano stool, the cold marble floor smacking into his cheek painfully. Somebody's body slammed into his jarringly, and he felt his hip protest from being pressed down at such a hard angle. Ropes bound his hands, and the knots were so intricate not even his skilled fingers could unravel them.

_Shit, shit, shit! _He cursed, rapaciously squirming with all his might. There was the soft pattering of shoes, far lighter than these thugs that had taken him down and that perfume, soft but entrancing.

_Bianchi._

He made as loud a noise he could under the gag, thrashing around furiously, not wanting to drag his half-sister into whatever sick game this was, but to drive her away. If she had any sense, she _would, _but of course, this was _Bianchi, _the girl who thought she could take on the world. Though she may act as calm as a chilled cucumber around the adults, when alone with Gokudera, there was nothing too ridiculous for her. He sure hoped she grew out of it, but somehow doubted it.

She gasped, "_Hayato-!" _but before her voice could escalate to a scream, it was cut short by what Gokudera sensed was a heavy blow. There was a thud and he felt her body hit the floor clumsily, knocked out.

"_bastards!_" was what he wanted to roar, but it ended up as a muffled, contorted expletive.

There was a blunt blow to the back of his head, just at the nape of his neck and he was out before he could feel the pain.

* * *

Ever so slowly, consciousness crawled its way back to Gokudera. It came in fits and bursts, jolting him awake, then he would immediately sink back into its depths for however long it was. This time though, he was truly awake and what he felt and saw was more than a shock.

His ached for a start, if he dared twitch his neck his neck muscles spasmed. His arms felt weak and flimsy at his sides, but they weren't. He peered down and saw his arms were shackled, a chain no longer than a few inches chaining him to a...

A bedpost? What the _fuck_?

On closer inspection, his gut sank as he saw that he was entirely naked, laid down on a red quilted bed like some prize gift for someone to stumble on. No way was he some bouquet of roses spread randomly on a bedspread! What in the _hell_ was going on? What kind of sick joke was _this_?

_Great. Just fucking dandy. _It was unsettling, but also irritating. More of Nasser's little mind games no doubt, showing his victim just how powerless and vulnerable he was.

He was old enough to imagine the worst but throttled the thought. He was the son of a prestigious mafia family, one that was known for being respected and consoled by the Vongola. No-one would _dare _kidnap him and attempt such foul an act.

But he _was _the bastard son – he didn't have to do much to be reminded of that small factor.

With that infuriating thought, his awareness grew. The soft, slick sensation of the red cotton beneath him that felt cold though he was sure he had been there for quite some time considering how numb his arms felt. His surroundings held no familiarity with him at all and took him a round-about a few breaths to realise he was most certainly not in the mansion anymore. The windows had thick black curtains drawn across them, and the walls were painted nearly black in their intensity. The only light he could use to see anything with was the pitiful candle-light. The waxen accessories littered every table-top and surface.

The smell was strange – too clean and yet it stank of strange essences that were so oppressive it was a wonder he wasn't being forced into the mattress. It hung like a heavy curtain over him but he wrinkled his noise as he slowly desensitised himself from it. Now all he could smell was disinfectant and bleach. Honestly, what was _with _his sense of smell?

With a swift shake of his head and the sore reminder that such a movement was unadvisable with such a stiff neck, the near-teen was thrown awake, like when you broke the surface of water and met the cold hard rush of air that came with it.

Memories of events preceding his abduction returned in a flooded rush, each thought and recollection making him angrier by the second.

The piano...the men who'd blind-folded him from behind...Bianchi being attacked...the cold crack to the back of his neck, rending him unconscious – All those things _had _happened...they hadn't been some strange, very much ironic dream for the boy. He clenched his numb fists with fury.

The fucktards – whoever had done this would be getting a serious mouthful. He didn't care how high up they were status-wise with the Mafia. They could go shove it – he would _not _just lay around in a bed, _naked _and fricking _handcuffed _to the bed posts looking like some sort of sex-toy.

But whatever gusto he'd mentally conjured just blew away when he heard the door to the darkened room click open. A beam of light shot out towards the wall adjacent to him, and he shut his eyes, feigning unconsciousness. If they saw he was still out with the pixies, maybe then they'd leave him be. Surely whatever suffering they had planned for him was better served when he was awake.

His ears pricked at the sound of voices – lots of them, but less than a dozen. They all gathered in the room, but his ears were still too numb, too plugged for him to understand everything they were saying.

Someone's voice sounded familiar, and the boy was almost overcome by curiosity. Surely just one peek, a chance to understand the situation couldn't hurt him too badly.

_No, _his instincts warned and that shut him up almost immediately. Whatever these men wanted with him, it certainly wasn't going to legal or pleasant. Considering he hadn't been done away with was as good an indication of their motives and it sickened him, but he would endure it. He'd been raised to withstand torture – his body was trained.

These men though, mafia or no, most definitely would end up killing him. It was a saddening truth, but Gokudera would rather have his fingernails removed rather than admit he would just lay back and let them do with him as they pleased.

Even as dismally pitiful as his situation was, it seemed imminent that Gokudera would be damned if he didn't put up a fight. And he would make it one that would be engraved in their souls, child or no; he was strong and had a ferocious temper. Anyone with sense knew better than to let it rear its ugly, dangerous head. He'd give them a fight; he would struggle and do whatever he could. He wasn't easy prey – he never had been.

His throat felt dry and his mind was clouded with big tufts of cotton wool. They pressed down on his skull and he accidentally jerked his wrists. The chain clinked and within a moment, the voices were hushed. He didn't need to open his arms to see the sickening smirks that were flitting between the men.

He opened his eyes defiantly, glaring at the group of four men lividly. Had they been born with any sense, they might have actually run away, knowing that if they got too close he would resist then like a cornered animal.

A thick sweet smell hit his senses in a rush. The stench of rich alcohol and booze suddenly permeated the air, so heavy that he felt immediately weary and drugged by the odour. It threaded through his thoughts, slurring them but he clenched his fists tightly, nails biting into his palm. The pain zinged in his nerves, but he was grateful for it. He had to be alert.

Each of the men had their eyes covered by fiery masks. There eyes were all brown and cleverly non-suggestive in a way that he knew that if he were to try and indentify the men later on, it would be nearly impossible.

There was one man though, who stood out from the rest. With the wave of his hand, an obvious unspoken dismissal, the men all left soundlessly bowing to him before they left.

How..._Japanese_...it confused Gokudera. They were in _Italy, _not Japan for god's sake. What was with the strange manners the men had showed this man?

He shut the door softly, locking the door. Gokudera gulped audibly. This wasn't gonna be good, no matter what angle he looked at it from.

_Please may I just pass out, _he silently pleaded to any god that would listen, _if there's any sort of mercy this world could be bothered to offer me, let me black out._

The man smiled, holding a glass of dark red liquid, most definitely red wine. He smiled, and Gokudera was shocked to notice his eyes weren't coloured brown like the three other men's had been. They were icy blue, and his hair was shockingly platinum white compared to the black hair the other men had.

He smiled at the naked child, setting the glass down after one last sip. He stopped just by the end of the enormous bed, savouring the liberating sensation of such a defiant child being put into such a vulnerable, yet tempting position for a bare moment before stepping around the bed to stand beside the boy.

That smirk on his captors face irked the twelve-year old and he had to resist spitting at the blue-eyed man. He felt disgusted by the thought but...he looked almost...handsome. His eyes seemed a little...trusting? No, they seemed _honest. _Of course, that could be both good and bad. He was about to look away from the handsome man with his fiery mask, when he took it off.

_Dude, have you got anything between your ears? _Gokudera mentally spluttered, shocked by the man's stupidity.

But then an icy trickle burnt his skin.

It was common knowledge. If kidnapped or held against your will, if you captor shows their face, it's a clear indication that you won't be going anywhere. Not if you can recognise their face. The certainty of being killed rises from 70% up to a full 100%.

Despite the staggering outcome that would surely follow whatever he was set up, Gokudera refused to indulge himself in the fear that pooling in his veins. He would resist until he was too drained to breathe. Then, he would pass out and hopefully, if whatever torture this blue-eyed man had in store for him would take away his life. Preferably in his sleep, but the child was in no position to be picky. All he could do was prepare for the worst.

"It seems you've finally graced me with your presence," the man's voice was low and silky, and if he had to imagine a fabric, it would be velvet. It wasn't slimy enough to be silky, but not coarse enough to be like...he didn't know what you related a coarse voice to...

The man killed his mental discussion, "If you're properly finished with your own assessment of your surroundings, feel free to ask as many questions as you please."

The boy knit his brows together, eyes narrowing suspiciously. This was just weird. Was this guy schizophrenic? He was sure he had felt some kind of killer intent from the man earlier, though it had been difficult to pin point with all the other men surrounding him, a coy tactic. But know they were alone, Gokudera just felt confused.

He looked away and the man chuckled, a deep, rumbling and fricking _nice _sound, "Please, go right ahead, don't hesitate. You might as well get it out of your system and have it all over with up front."

_Alright then, _Gokudera thought snidely and exploded, "_Who the fuck do you think you are kidnapping me? Why the fucking hell am I fucking _naked, _and what exactly do you intend to do with me? Torture me? Rape me? Kill me? Why did you take off your mask? Are you retarded?"_

But all of those demands wouldn't come out. They froze in his throat, his vocal chords drying up. His words died, morphing into a threatening growl. All his unspoken questions seemed to be obviously conveyed in his glare though.

The blue-eyed man just smiled, his eyes laughing silently like he'd understood. Gokudera's stomach churned and flipped and he had to bite down on his lip to make sure nothing decided to come up.

The blue eyed man just stood there silently, drinking in the boys dark glare coolly, that same knowing smirk painted across his face.

"Who are you." It was supposed to sound like a question but Gokudera's tone was flat and devoid of emotion.

The man answered simple, "Leo. I'm a part of the Grigori family."

_Oh fucking crap almighty. _Now Gokudera was certain fortune was spitting at him in the face. Only Grigori would show his face to his captors. He recognised his features as well – he'd seen some of them in the streets when out with Bianchi. Only Leo seemed to carry the blonde gene with those startling blue eyes.

The Grigori's' were a prestigious family on a par with his father's and had been competing for good favour with the Vongola for generations. To be kidnapped by them was definitely bad news, on any front.

Whilst the boy let his eyes fall in shock, he took in the rest of his lovely, developing body. Even at such a young age, he was already well developed with strong muscles and a supple, toned abdomen and legs looked incredibly inviting, let alone those long, muscled legs. His eyes though, were fascinating. They were a hypnotic shade of both silver and green, merging to form a thick rich startling green that could steal the heart of any woman once he was old enough to learn how to charm them.

The way the boy looked at him with horror and disgust was almost appealing towards a sadist like Leo. He enjoyed torturing people through the most lewd of methods. This boy wouldn't be the first. He was quite used to having unwanted staff or even illegitimate heirs like Hayato Gokudera. His father had known that he had his goals set on becoming the Tenth Vongola's right-hand man. If the child had been the rightful heir, then the matter would have been resolved fairly mundanely. But he hadn't been, and the father knew complications would have arisen once Bianchi was given the title. So, Grigori had stepped in and dealt with Gokudera.

It was a difficult but rewarding lifestyle. Once sold, the merchandise could be used in any way the owner desired, so long as it was eventually killed within a fortnight. That was the contract, and Leo Grigori abided by it.

Most his clients sold him unwanted daughters or simply wished for some family relatives to 'disappear' and often he would simply just murder them swiftly. The most gruelling assignment he had been given was to kill a three month year old boy. It had been demanded of by another family, and Grigori, ever the dirty-workers of the Mafia, had made sure Leo had done it. Since then, he had continuously murdered each of his bought merchandise quickly.

This boy though, unlike the others, had eyes that burnt like fire. They knew their fate, but wouldn't give up without some sort of resistance. This immediately caught his attention.

_I'll take my time breaking this one, _he thought, _it'll be wonderful to watch his sense of right and wrong dissolve into one blissful mixture of both. _

It was ideal for him to stain the pure. They had to understand the cruelty of life or else it wouldn't be long until they felt the harsh slap of reality. The world was twisted and blackened. Some chose to ride its current with ease, there were those that battled it and succeeded, but most drowned with their resistance. He wanted to see which one this boy was, for he certainly was _not _one of those that simply let the current take him.

_Let's see Hayato Gokudera. Will you drown or will you break the surface and take to the sky?_

* * *

Angrily, Gokudera gave the chains a few hard yanks, his wrists cramping as the metal bit into the skin and nerves repeatedly. Damn it. They didn't look like they'd be budging any time soon.

Leo had left a few minutes ago, saying he would return swiftly and Gokudera had seized the opportunity to attempt some sort of escape. Unless he wanted to be handless though, he wouldn't be going anywhere very quickly.

It was out rightly surprising. Considering this _was _Leo Grigori, who was in no way a fool, would have made sure the boy was thoroughly secured. And he had become painfully aware of his entrapment.

The door to the room softly opened once more and in stepped Grigori, dressed in a dark charcoal robe with a golden sash. Again, he seemed to be fond of Japanese clothing, or perhaps it was the culture entirely. His robe looked like...what had his father brought back once? A caftan was what he thought it had been called. It was different from kimonos and yukata's which Gokudera had made himself familiar with when researching Japan. He'd wanted to feel closer to his mother somehow, and had even started to learn the language. He'd picked it up fast and was near fluent in the language.

His stark blonde hair shone out like a beacon, all mussed up and untidy – but he'd always been like that, even before he'd left the room. God knew how old the guy was, but the hairstyle suited him, strangely enough.

Leo noticed Gokudera studying him like a student would a book and his near constant smirk widened slightly.

"Have you gathered the courage to finally ask me what I intend to do with you? Or maybe you've figured it out and will tell me that I won't get away with treating you like this," he eyed the boy up and down, eyes resting on his groin. Gokudera flushed and drew his legs up, but that was even more humiliating, so he just lay them back down.

"Don't look at me like I'm some prized meat you've just bought."

His tone was dark, voice filled with spite. His chest heaved as he took another try at the chains, but still they wouldn't budge.

Leo just moved closer to the bed, no longer to stand beside it and knelt one leg on the mattress, hovering above Gokudera's body.

"So, you've decided to be indignant. This just makes it all the more entertaining for me."

His purring tone was a nuisance to Gokudera's ears and swore at the man in Italian.

Without changing his expression, Leo slapped Gokudera straight across the face. He wore two rings on his middle finger, both of which scalded his skin when they hit his face.

His head snapped to the side and he felt his neck crick back into place. At least the abuse had helped him somewhat.

"I may tolerate that fire in your eyes, but not _that _kind of insult," he spoke smoothly, almost like he was unbothered, but Gokudera's stinging, raw cheek spoke otherwise.

Gokudera sneered, "Kidnapping me was probably the stupidest thing you've ever done Leo Grigori. My father will find you and skin you alive and feed your innards to our dogs."

Leo didn't slap Gokudera this time, but the look in his eyes hurt more than another slap. They laughed at him openly but with a string of cruelty attached. They knew something that Gokudera didn't but he didn't leave the boy in suspense for too long.

"Oh, your father won't come looking Gokudera. He knows _exactly _what I'm going to do with you. In fact, he _sold _me to you." He watched as the colour drained out of Gokudera's face. His body knew how to respond, but he knew the boy would be damned if he didn't try and deny it. His eyes flared.

"Don't mock me! My father may be an ass at the best of times, but he wouldn't _sell _his _son _to the likes of _you_!"

Another slap to the face and Gokudera was still, blood trickling down his chin. It stung more than the last one, but where that had been a punishment for insulting the man, this one seemed to be just out of pure pleasure – the sickening delight in striking someone below you.

"Have you _any _idea on what I'm going to do to you Hayato Gokudera?" Leo's lips were by his ear and slowly, his hand softly made its way across his chest, teasing his nipples until they were stiff, sensitive nubs. His soft long fingers then slid down his toned chest, relishing in the feel of the supple, developing muscles under his fingertips. His hand stroked the sensitive area between his hips, a sensation Gokudera had never imagined could be possible seizing up his muscles while loosening them all at the same time.

_Like hell I'll be some sex-pet for you, you fucking asshole. I won't show you any kind of satisfaction. Yeah, kill me, that's fine you son of a bitch, but you'll have to wait for hell to freeze over before I beg and squirm under your touch._

Leo's smile widened slightly, his teeth flashing with a carnivorous edge. He hooked his other leg over Gokudera's body and with on fluid movement from the man, he was straddling the boy.

_Holy shit...fuck, fuck, no!_

With lithe movements, he pulled his long dark robe off over his head. He wore a part of grey shorts underneath, but his chest was bare and it looked so damn, _attractive..._

Gokudera's stomach flipped. This was beyond unnatural. He should _not _be getting turned on and all heart-throbbing over this...this absolute _asshole._

"You seem to have led a well protected and sheltered life dear Hayato," he purred erotically on his neck. Gokudera flinched, "I would have thought you would have been _far _more experienced at this age with those looks of yours. I'm..." he smiled into his neck, the words rumbling against his skin, "disappointed."

In response, Gokudera's muscles tightened angrily, and Leo noticed this in how taut his neck muscles were. "It doesn't matter to me either way. This just makes it all the more enjoyable."

Slowly, he began to move his hand down further and with strange tenderness, groped Gokudera's manhood. He hissed, wanting to pull away, but Leo's hand came down hard on his shoulder, pinning him there with ease. He writhed furiously under the man's skilful hand, focusing on the sickness of what was happening so his body wouldn't give in to the pleasure that was pooling in his groin. It was becoming very difficult to ignore, especially when the rest of his body was beginning to respond in the same way.

The overwhelming stench of alcohol was of no help either. It suppressed whatever common sense the boy might have been able to claw at, and dulled his senses, letting his body slowly give way under the ministrations.

Whilst being pumped in such a vigorous manner, Leo slowly bent down and brushed his lips across Gokudera's body, chest, shoulder, collar-bone and then up to his neck. He used his tongue on his neck, sucking on it like he wanted to bite him. The thought nearly made the boy laugh. How ironic would it be if Grigori was a vampire? It would suit his personality pretty well.

Even under the man's hypnotic spell, Gokudera still managed to keep some of his sense. Though his eyes were a little occupied with gawking at the man's perfect, powerful physique, a body which would have made any athlete weep at the sight of it with crippling envy; he jolted at the feeling of something very prominent and slowly becoming increasing hard rubbing against the boy's inner thigh. He would have looked down if he could, but had no need to. Leo was very _obviously _aroused, in a way that rotten Gokudera's bones and made his muscles shiver. As it rubbed suggestively against his thigh, Gokudera went by his sense of touch and felt his stomach just disappear at how prominent and impressive his arousal was. Panic skewered his heart, pinning him to the bedspread.

Leo could feel his ministrations weren't having the right kind of effect on the boy and quickly claimed his mouth possessively. Once he was done, he would let his men do what they wished with him, but until then, this boy was his and he was going to make sure he broke him into obedience.

Gokudera's face burned with intense embarrassment as the man pumped and thrust his arousal in his fist harder, his grip tightening. He fingered the tip of the weeping length teasingly and the sensitive spot made a hot bolt of white searing pleasure shoot through his groin right up to his heart. His back arched, mouth opening to groan, and Leo seized the opportunity to claim the boy's entire mouth, his tongue darting away.

The way he skilfully navigated Gokudera's mouth made it seem like it was a dance, one which Gokudera's own tongue couldn't keep up with. He felt ready to gag and instead, bit down on Leo's tongue angrily.

Leo jerked, surprised by Gokudera's forwardness but was well prepared. He gripped his groin tightly, too tightly this time and Gokudera let go of his tongue with a gasp of pain.

"It looks like I'd better move faster then, considering you seem so keen," he goaded, moving his hand down to between his legs, starting to pull down his shorts.

_Holy shit...fuck, no, fuck, fuck!_

Leo laughed darkly, his blue eyes as intimidating as when your stood at the highest diving board, looking down to the threatening water below. It was an unpredictable colour and it unsettled Gokudera enormously.

"I'll be honest with you, being the first _does _give me the chills. It's very thrilling," Leo commented with a smirk. He'd moved so he could begin to pull down his shorts, leaving his semi-aroused hot length alone. His other hand was still pressing down on his shoulder, but Leo had moved back a little, freeing up Gokudera's legs.

Grabbing a hold of the opportunity, Gokudera brought up his legs at lightning speed, both feet together, and tensed his leg muscles for a brief second before kicking the man squarely in the chest and face as hard as he could. He felt the hard muscle tense under him, and swore some bones broke under his heels from the impact. Good, you shit head.

Leo was thrown back into the bed-post, clutching his chest. It took him barely a moment to regain his breath though and infuriatingly, Gokudera hadn't broken his nose or knocked the jackass out.

"I'll admit, maybe I deserved that Gokudera. _Touché_." He laughed at the fiery expression on the teen and felt his body heat from it pleasurably. Oh god, this was going to be _so _good.

He straddled the boy again and took off his shorts within a flash and before Gokudera could cry out, had forced two of his fingers into the boy's tight entrance. He reeled at the boy's reaction, marvelling at the attractive way his chest heaved, back arching off the mattress. His knees spread themselves automatically, trying to ease the initial pain from the intruding entrance.

He felt his spine cringe and tense, like the bones were actually grinding against each other. It really hurt that much – it wasn't a numbing pain or a type of pain that faded. It came in rippling waves, the degree of how much it hurt depending on how deep Leo pushed his fingers.

Ever the unpredictable asshole though, he took his fingers out and ran his tongue over his top lip sensually.

He winced when Leo took the boy's face in his hands, pressing his face close to him. He rubbed their arousals together in an intoxicating manner, sending shivers down his thighs and up into his gut. It repulsed him and mentally, Gokudera was being repeatedly sick, feeling humiliated in the worst of ways.

He wouldn't squirm though – no matter _what _Leo didn't. The resolute thought held less strength than it had initially and he felt like he truly _would _gag when Leo forced his lips to part with the two fingers he'd entered his body with.

He smiled sadistically, "I won't be able to have my fun unless you're properly prepped," and with that, he pushed his fingers in, running them under, around and over his tongue and around his mouth. The taste was putrid and just the invasion of his mouth made Gokudera think he might just die from shame.

After molesting the boys mouth, he drove the fingers back into his tight heat, scissoring his fingers. Gokudera couldn't help it – he arched his back and cried out hoarsely in agony, the cry turning swiftly into a scream as Leo drove his own arousal straight in to Gokudera's tight entrance.

Whatever game this man was playing had rules he couldn't follow. Whatever he did to defend himself was immediately converted into his own sort personal of attack. He couldn't protect himself in any way. This had turned from a game of torturous stress to an all out dance that only Leo knew the steps to. Gokudera had just been the partner dragged with him for the ride.

Leo thrust into him roughly without mercy, his sharp hip bones smacking into Gokudera's thighs. He caught his quivering thighs and pushed them up, bending his legs, giving him more leverage. It was strange – Leo seemed distant, retracted from the act, except for those eyes of his that seemed to be watching and calculating every single one of Gokudera's reactions.

_Fuck my life, seriously, _Gokudera thought in despair, tears shamelessly rolling down from the corner's of his eyes. He felt so raw and exposed and _used. _He felt like he was worth less than a shovel of dirt. His own worthlessness and ability to be controlled so easily burned in his veins, and he felt like he was on show for everyone. There was only Leo in the room, but Gokudera couldn't shake that clinging paranoia that pricked at his senses, reminding him of how exposed he was, how vulnerable, and especially how no-one would accept him. It wasn't that he would tell anyone, just that if he had that one in a million chance that he could get away from here and make his way back home without being slaughtered, his father wouldn't welcome him. Bianchi, always the obedient daughter would grudgingly pretend he was dead and soon, everyone in the surrounding area would treat him like a pariah. As he weren't excluded enough.

A sob tore itself from his ribs, his mouth opening for a heart-quaking scream of agony, both from the pain, the torture of having been a pariah his entire life, never understanding the soft warm caress of love, the death of his mother, her only memory residing in a dusty, neglected grand piano. The sob shook his entire frame, his tear soaked eyes squeezing shut as the misery engulfed him slowly, eroding his innards slowly, painfully, washing away the physical pain, replacing it with soul deep, emotional agony. His face felt hot, his body aching and quivering under the possessive, rough thrusts of the man above him. He felt limp and lost, lost to the disgusting pleasure and to the choking pain that bound itself around his entire skeleton, a matrix of thorns.

Leo's hand slid down between their bodies, gripping Gokudera's softened flesh that had gone limp from the pain and fear. He urged him back into hardness with his pumping hand, his strokes harder, pushing him back into that haze of arousal with his skilled hand and his own thrusts. Slowly the boy was plunged back into that hot bath of pleasure but he did resist it as much as was physically possible. Having almost gnawed through his bottom lip entirely, Gokudera gripped his fists, nails digging into his skin brutally.

His body was all over the place. There were areas that sang to him in pain and then there were parts that hummed with deep shuddering desire. He was responding to Leo far too easily, and soon, when Leo began to retract his hand from his throbbing arousal, Gokudera's body betrayed him by bucking his hips into the man's grip, so close to the edge he knew would throw him into an ocean of bliss. Desire was stronger than temptation, pleasure outlasted pain, and darkness stained and poisoned light. There was never a balance, no yin and yang that kept everything in order. Unexplored sensations would always be found to dominate those that you had grown up with. Gokudera understood this while Leo continued to thrust into his body, but with more care now that Gokudera's body was beginning to surrender to his touch.

He was disappointed though. He had expected the boy to resist a little more readily, to fight against him until the very end...No, Gokudera; you could do better than this. Those intoxicating eyes that had held his gaze with such openly displayed hatred had dulled, accepting the inevitable. He knew any sort of reason had slowly deserted the child as he had submitted to Leo's persuasive touch, but even so, he'd expected more resistance and that angered the blonde.

_I wanted despair in those eyes when I finally kill you. I don't want _defeat! He thought it angrily, pumping the boy roughly, his heated, wet skin moving in his fist with ease. He was an unemotional man on the surface, but underneath, even he could feel the current of desire and aching need to release rising up on him, growing stronger with each thrust.

Gokudera's body responded immediately towards Leo's movements, his lower back seizing in agony, but it was washed away by his skilled fingers that were still threaded around his heat, stroking, teasing, caressing it beyond madness until Gokudera felt a warm curtain begin to descend on him like sun rays on a cool day. The feeling was almost welcomed, he wanted to be lost in it, lose himself, tear away from the world and be thrown into this blissful space with no understanding of time or memories. It was just a feeling, something that could claim you fully and make you forget whatever you should be doing, why you should be crying, the anger in your life fades, your own will bends to its strength.

The need Leo was kindling in his blood burned so brightly, scalding his body, making him groan and then with a swift thrust, the boy had to bite down on the urge to moan, pressing against his tormenter, wishing for more than he was being given.

_Give me more, _he thought helplessly, disgusted with himself. But, if he was already to be damned, did it matter? He'd been reduced to a petty sex toy, so did it hold any worth to whether he could redeem himself? _Give me everything, just make sure you kill me soon after. I won't live through this._

* * *

_Yamamoto thought his body was going to collapse with the misery of his lover's situation. He knew that back in his physical form, he was crying, tears welling up and spilling over onto his face. His body felt cold and empty with Gokudera's shame. He was lost in the whirlwind of memories, so much so that he was almost forgetting to breathe. He anticipated everything that was to come, but his expectations were thrown back in his face with a cold slap. He had _never _expected this. He was so enraged with this Grigori bastard that if he saw him, even at a glance, he would strangle the fucking life out of him – he'd enjoy it too. He would gladly become a murderer to avenge Gokudera. Suddenly, his mind seized with Gokudera's agony, choking him._

_He felt Gokudera's consciousness retreating, reacting towards Yamamoto's hostility. He thought the swordsman was angry at _him. _Yamamoto ground his teeth together angrily, infuriated by his stupid emotions. Gokudera's misery was enough for him to handle without the shock of Yamamoto's anger._

_While Yamamoto reached out to Gokudera, he felt the boy's misery ache in his chest, burning a hole in his chest that burnt like a meteorite. Gokudera hid away in the darkest corner of his mind, away from the crippling hatred. He couldn't bear it if Yamamoto hated him that strongly. If he wanted to keep his lover alive, he _had _to stay strong and make sure he didn't mentally collapse before his lover had gotten back into his own body._

_He did want to blot out his existence though. He was being strong mentally, imagining any kind of building structure or foundation to hold up his otherwise crumbling psyche._

Please, Yamamoto, hate me, but don't...not when you're so vulnerable...please..._Gokudera knew he was in no position to be asking anything of the Japanese teen, but if he had a shred of honour left in him, it was to make sure no-one else fell down with him in his descent to hell._

_He cringed at the swordsman anger though, entirely misreading its cause, feeling hopeless and more alone than the last star at the end of the universe. _

_Yamamoto refused to allow Gokudera to shrink and hide away though. He looked away from the dimming memories and cradled the Italian in a trembling embrace, tight and secure. He held him as close as he dared without spooking the boy, wishing for the sake of this wonderful, tortured boy, that his reactions would be less throttling and extreme._

No, don't leave me Hayato...I'm sorry. I'm not angry at you though, I'm enraged by that fucking bastard. He should be slaughtered, killed, _he reined in his emotions, not liking how Gokudera was shuddering now from the intense anger, _I love you, you _idiot! _I love you Gokudera, and if that means I've got to walk through darkness with you before you can see the light of life then I'll do it. If I have to fall to my knees to beg you not to give up on me, I will. Please Hayato...I don't want you to have to suffer under this load. Show me it all...let me see it all...please...

_Gokudera crushed the half-sob in his chest. He hadn't known, hadn't remembered Leo Grigori, but what Yamamoto was about to see, he did remember that. It had haunted him like a second shadow for years, following him in the night, calling out to him in silence. But, he knew there was something else, something that happened later...afterwards...he wouldn't think about it..._

_He winced as Yamamoto gripped him harder, trembling._

Alright..._He murmured, allowing Yamamoto to sink back into his memories. He could only hope to god that it didn't break Yamamoto apart like it had him._

* * *

Leo had finally finished with him, now dressed back in his robe, leaving Gokudera laid on the bed, uncovered. He felt a repulsive warm substance trickling down his inner thigh. He ached and burned, emotionally and physically, especially down in a certain area where he could smell a coppery substance merging with what he'd rather not think about.

_Whore._

The word was cruel, was ugly and crude but suited him entirely. He'd eaten out of the palm of Leo's hand and _enjoyed _it. He would have tried to kick himself, but he was too sore and too tired to care. He just wanted to die. Shameful tears squeezed from the corners of his eyes trailed down well worn paths along the sides of his face to the mattress. He couldn't tell which emotion was winning – pain or despair. Leo hadn't taken him too roughly, it had hurt, but Gokudera knew it could have been excruciating. He didn't understand it. He'd definitely noticed that killer intent in the man earlier. He'd been prepared to be utterly _pounded _by the man, but by the end, he had _nearly _been gentle. Was it the calm before the storm?

He felt revolting. He wished for that feeling again – that overwhelmingly heavy pleasure that crushed him unbearably but was still delicious to endure even while it crushed him.

"Aren't you going to ask what I'll be doing with you next,_ puttana,_" Leo added the word 'whore' in with a sneer, sipping from his wine glass once more. This time it was white wine, sloshing around in his glass, its odour softer and less compelling than the red wine had been.

Gokudera tried a glare, but it just ended up as a prolonged, spiteful stare. He didn't have any mental strength to keep it up though. You only glared at someone if you had a solid reason for it, if you believed that person deserved to be glared at. He'd been raped, very blatantly too, but Gokudera couldn't fix him with a murderous look because he had wanted more. It was addictive, and the pleasure far out won the pain.

He really had become a _puttana._

"It seems my methods were unsuccessful, so," he glanced up from his glass with a sharp edge to his icy blue eyes, "My men will ensure the job is done successfully. I look forward to seeing you again soon Hayato."

Gokudera wanted to snarl the words, "Don't you say my name so freely you mother fucker," but they froze in his throat, wilting. He couldn't say what wasn't entirely true.

As soon as Leo left, the three men from before walked into the room silently. This time, they didn't remove their masks, and the fact they all had around about the same physique didn't help either. They were all tall, muscular and had around-about the same features – brown eyes and black hair under those fiery masks. However, they looked absolutely wasted. The scent of booze hung lazily amongst them and Gokudera knew that they wouldn't have been able to do what they were going to if they were sober. Looks like these guys had a conscience, even if it could be subdued by booze.

One of them held a whip, and cracked it against his chest. Gokudera flinched, the stinging slash leaving a red line across his skin.

He couldn't really understand how it happened, but the reasonably well groomed men were suddenly out of their clothes in an instant, one of them having pulled up his legs, pressing them against his chest as he was brutally entered once again.

The man's pounding roughness was excruciating, and he felt his body tear and bleed under him. He screamed, back arching, his body tossing. This only earned him another cold slap from the whip. He crushed another sob in his chest, only just beginning to understand the hell he was in for. Despair opened its jaws under him.

Gokudera winced, the man taking him again, having almost pulled out entirely. He thrust in harder, groaning at the sweet bliss of being taken by such a tight heat. The boy's screams even added to the pleasure.

Swiftly, another man made Gokudera take his own throbbing length in his mouth whilst straddling his chest. Gokudera cried while his mouth was invaded, wanting to sink his teeth into the man's disgusting large length but knew it would only earn him another brutal whip.

The man who had claimed him first withdrew, having finished, only to have the last man take his place. Gokudera screamed around the other man's enormous length as this man claimed him right to the hilt. His throat rumbled with the depth of the scream. There was no pleasure in this, none at all. Leo had been sure to make sure he understood how quickly the pendulum could swing from the two spectrums. This was pure, agonising rape that gouged deep wounds into his psyche with each painful thrust.

He was abused rhythmically with fists, various men's large weeping lengths, and the harsh slap of the whip if ever they weren't satisfied.

The man taking him from his lower terminal cupped his hips, pressing himself in deeper, making Gokudera's back arch helplessly as his nerves betrayed him. Through all the pain, pleasure still managed to crawl its way through, lacing through his senses. He moaned into the thick length of the man that was being taken by Gokudera's mouth. He groaned at the thrumming sound of Gokudera's voice on his heated throbbing length and felt himself fall over the edge.

"_Puttana_," they would say every time Gokudera bucked into their pumping grips or when their thrusts hit the right bundle of nerves inside him. He felt sick, wishing this would be over and done with faster. He wanted to throw himself from the window to the right, feel the pain of the glass shards tear into his skin. That kind of pain he recognised, he understood it.

The man thrust into him again, taunting in Italian, "Do I feel that good inside your body? Do I?" He asked both questions with a sharp thrust attached, "Never would have imagined he'd be such a good little whore."  
The men laughed at his observation and the one that had been swallowed by Gokudera's mouth came unexpectedly. Gokudera choked on the disgusting man's girth, spitting out whatever he could when his mouth was freed.

Gokudera's face contorted and flushed in a fresh display of shame and self-hatred, turning his head to the side to spit out as much of the creamy substance as he could, feeling revolting. His body twisted in a weak, ineffectual attempt to escape from another man's arousal. It was such a pitiful attempt of escape that it didn't even earn him a slash from the whip.

"Awh, fuck, this body of his..." The man straddling him groaned, bucking into the boy urgently.

One man, holding the whip while jerking himself off groaned along with him, "Just watching is enough..."

"I'll take him from here," said the man who had just freed Gokudera's mouth. He suddenly shoved his two fingers into his mouth, forcing him to lick and wet them before taking them out, and though Gokudera tried to anticipate whatever the guy was going to do, he felt his body jolt from the way his own length was taken, arousal pumped back into it. Gokudera's chest shudder, he was just trying so hard not to move and thrust and _beg. _

Gokudera knew that any sort of opposition on his part was futile and just went limp, closing his eyes and letting the men do as they wished. They pounded both pleasure and pain through him in unbelievable quantities, making his body seize and relax simultaneously. They played him wildly, ferociously, skilfully and even passionately with complete control. They forced him to accept their brutal rhythms, teaching him through force about how to desire the pain through such a tempting method. It was masochistic, but addictive and Gokudera felt his body latch onto it, wanting more.

He had been a blank canvas with the world to paint its colours on. Now he was torn and stained an ugly shade of red and black. His life had become an assortment of various degrees of pain and outstandingly excruciating pleasure. Such polar opposites were whipping the boy over the head at an alarming rate and it wasn't too long before he collapsed entirely, passing out.

* * *

He didn't know how long he'd been there - Couldn't care less in fact. He didn't find it humiliating when the Grigori servants came in to tend to his wounds, even when they had to clean places that should have made him squirm and flush. They changed the sheets and dressed him a single pair of grey cargo pants, the rest of his clothes left neatly folded on the side, a letter from Leo sat on top.

He should have read it. He knew that. But he was too sore, too broken. He thought that if he moved he would shatter into thousands of pieces and fall into the chasm that was hovering beneath him.

Slowly, hours later, he managed to sit himself up. He clutched his chest painfully, his back and stomach decorated with long red welts criss-crossing his skin. He felt used, well and truly, and then left for the next customer.

He was so incredibly, unbearably _filthy_. He felt rotten to the core of his existence, like even his own soul had been blackened. No amount of soap and water could wash his sins away, not even if he bathed in a lake of scalding bleach.

He wasn't chained any more and that confused him. Was Grigori playing with him? He tentatively took up the letter and opened it, his eyes widening in horror.

_It seems your father has withdrawn from the contract within the two week limit, thus relinquishing my ownership of you. You may leave as you please, but if you choose not to within twenty-four hours, you will become my property again. The choice is yours. I do hope I see you again soon Hayato and hope you enjoyed your time here.  
L.G_

Gokudera snarled, scrunching up the thick paper before tearing it into shreds of confetti.

He dressed himself, put his shoes on and made his way to the door to find it locked. The bastard – but it figured. He may have relinquished whatever absurd possession he had of Gokudera but wouldn't let him escape so easily. He wanted him to stay, to be locked in so that he would become his again within twenty four hours.

He looked to the blacked out curtains that were drawn away now from the windows. He looked out and saw that he was three floors up. It would be ludicrous to jump from this height. He'd be lucky not to break every bone in his body. Then again, if that were the case, maybe he should. That's all he wanted to do right now. Just wipe out his existence from this world. Maybe he'd be reborn as someone without these chains binding him to misfortune.

But he wouldn't, not yet. He'd been raised as a bastard son yes, but he still had dreams. He would redeem himself however he could. He would pull himself out of this dark hell for one person's sake. Not his own, but his mothers. If not for him and his cursed birth, she wouldn't have died that day. She wouldn't have become sick at all. He had to live when she couldn't. He would go to Japan and find that boy – Tsuna Sawada. No matter what he had to do, he would become the right-hand man. Then he could go back to his father and spit in his face without having to watch his back for the consequences.

He turned and strode back to the door and with a high roundhouse kick that made his muscles scream, he kicked it open. The lock broke easily under his heel, and the door swung open.

He charged out into the hallway, unsurprised that the entire estate was empty. They would have made certain he couldn't attack or identify anyone when he left.

He bounded around corners, passing by beautiful tapestries and extravagant dining rooms and rooms that led on to more corridors. The place seemed endless and Gokudera wondered if the window might have been the better option.

Except that once he managed to reach a landing with an enormous marble staircase that led down to the main foyer, he was shocked to see his sister stood right in the middle, barking orders to men that were scouring the downstairs quarter.

"Look everywhere! Open every door and search every room!" She ordered, then moved her eyes up to the top of the stairwell, eyes widening in relief, "Hayato!"

_Bianchi..._he thought. He was supposed to be relieved and thankful, to drop to his knees and cry from how much he missed her.

But instead he lost it. His mind was drenched in red and paranoia bucked itself into gear alongside rage. Her eyes looked at him in pity, he _knew _they did. She knew what had been done to him; saw the pain and the still healing wounds on his arms. No doubt their father had ordered a search party to look for and find him before the twenty-four hour deadline was reached. Good to know he was so easy to _buy._

"Don't look at me like that!" He roared at her, glad to see her flinch, "Don't look at me with so much fucking _pity!_" His face contorted into a terrifying expression that Bianchi understood. Gokudera had only gotten like this once and it had been disastrous. Hurriedly, she yelled for the men to retreat, to leave the house.

She turned back to her brother, pleading, "I-I'm sorry...Hayato." She stuttered and winced as the air pressure in the mansion plummeted glaringly in response to Gokudera's dark, alarmed, furious mood. Bianchi tried to explain, "I told father you were the right successor for the Tenth Vongola's right hand man. When I refused, he beat me senseless before ordering me to find you! Be grateful you leech!"

"Shut up, shut up, shut up!" Gokudera roared the command, and even Bianchi's stubbornness seemed to cower at the force of the bellow.

In his clothes, Gokudera had found three sticks of his own dynamite and even a bottle of oil he hadn't remembered putting in there. With his batch of cigarettes and a lighter, he had drained the bottle dry when looking for the staircase. Now, he threw his dynamite back onto the oil, the fuse lit and let the explosion throw him from the top of the stairs.

Bianchi made to catch him, but he kicked her out of the way, finding another bottle of oil in his pocket. He smashed it against the walls, taking out another and another until he'd covered the entire place with the substance before setting alight. Bianchi was screaming, caught in the flames and with a shout, Gokudera threw her out of the door, shutting it behind him. He sank to the floor, leant against the oak door, holding his face in his hands while the fire spread.

The flames were hungry, dancing golden tongues that looked eager to lick at his skin. They looked ready to destroy and devour as they slowly caressed his skin, burning it, just like everyone did. The heat and pain was more intense than even what he had experienced with those sleaze balls. It didn't matter, no...It mattered to him in some strange way only he understood. He wanted the flames to purify him, wanted the agonising pain. It hurt but it was a pain that didn't feel good when it hurt. It hurt like pain itself should hurt. It made sense, it was familiar. The flames were hypnotic in their duty towards the earth – so straightforward yet beautiful in how they cleansed while destroying, purifying the dirtied while devouring life.

He huddled by the door, wanting to spread his arms wide and run into the tempting flames, but was too frightened. He was just a kid, a scared child that had been kidnapped, abused and raped repeatedly on his own birthday. This was yet another crime that was stamped on his birth, a slowly but gradually lengthening list - First his mother's death and now _this. _He doubted he would ever find a reason to celebrate his life again without these reminders.

He wished he had the courage to embrace the destruction, go numb with the glorious, triumphant victory that was his. To feel that he had _chosen _this fate because it had been _his _to make.

So instead, he begged, like a child crying for his mother in the night, a silent prayer amongst the crackling flames, _Burn, burn...smother me with the heat and reduce me to nothing but fine ash. Let my skin match the colour of my heart and soul that no-one bothers to see._

He screamed in agony, that same cry when he had cried for all the brutality in his life. He'd cried for fortunes betrayal and now he wept and wailed for how his life had become so confusing and blurred that this was the only way out.

The door behind him was kicked open with surprising force, pushing Gokudera into the flames. He screamed as the dancing, hypnotic white-orange flames swirled around him, glad to finally eat away at him. It was a strangely beautiful element. He wished it would consume him, strip him of this skin that had been touched and molested and scarred by those men. He didn't want an inch of it, not anymore.

Finally, he found the courage to spread his arms wide and cry out to have the flames take him. Tears of resolute joy sprung to his eyes, drying as soon as they ran down his face from the heat.

Someone tackled him from the side, dragging him down onto the floor. Someone called his name as well and hands gripped his limbs strongly. Would he not even find peace in his own dying moments? Would he have to relive his own torture even in death? Surely there wasn't a god so pitiless.

His lungs were blasted with air as he was hauled away from the burning mansion. He collapsed onto the gravel, coughing the smoke out of his lungs.

Someone was crying beside him, and when he managed to open his bleary eyes, he realised it was Bianchi. He struggled against her, not wanting to ruin her like he did everyone else. Surely if she kept herself so close he would poison her – that was what he'd become, a poisonous disgusting thing.

But she held face, accepting the frantic kicks and frightened punches. She held her brother tenderly, wishing she could warm his icy heart with her skin.

Soon, Gokudera relaxed stiffly, understanding his sister's intentions. She was forgiving him, accepting him and still loving him. Tears welled up and he gripped onto her tightly. He thought he would cry like a child, but the flood gates stood tall and strong. All he could do was hold on to her like a parasite, clinging to life even when he'd been prepared to die.

* * *

There was a calming atmosphere around him and Gokudera realised he wasn't in his memories anymore. He'd experienced them along with Yamamoto and still felt the throbbing pain in his heart where agony had clawed him. He stood, disengaging himself from the scene. He felt like ghost, near transparent. He looked down to his hunched form being held by his sister outside the burning mansion.

Looking around he tried to find the source of the calm, sympathetic atmosphere and found him.

Yamamoto – with fresh tears running down his face, eyes clear and welcoming but filled with sadness. He held out his hand, a light glowing behind him, no doubt the way out from this hell.

_Come here, _he spoke with his tear filled eyes, their warm amber hue so forgiving and loving.

_I love you Hayato, _Yamamoto thought as he held his hand out to the Italian that was stood just on the cusp of his memories; _I love you so, so much it hurts me. Please, you've seen it all...come back to me...leave this as what it is...a memory. Please, come back with me._

When framed by the light, Yamamoto really looked like a fiery sun. But his rays were soft, slowly warming the icy chains around his heart.

Tentatively, Gokudera outstretched his hand, but retracted it.

Could he really go back and have everyone treat him the same way? Was it possible?

_It is, because you're forgiven Hayato, _was what Yamamoto's eyes spoke to him lovingly.

Gokudera's face felt wet with tears of relief and grasped his lovers hand firmly, looking at him earnestly. If he could trust anything in this world anymore, it would have to be this man. Maybe he could show him the beauty of acceptance and love again.

To the Italian's screwed up heart, that seemed vitally important somehow. He was really handing the swordsman his heart with a dagger. The trust he was showing him was substantial and without this man, he was all too aware of what kind of darkness would await him.

_You won't have to worry about that though, _Yamamoto smiled, _I won't leave. I won't abandon you._

And with those heart warming words, words that Gokudera knew the swordsman wouldn't have been able to say before, couldn't have conveyed with anything else but his eyes, he was pulled into the tunnel of light. He flew past the dark shadows of his thoughts that had receded enormously from before, and felt his own state of mind stabilising slowly.

_There really is nowhere to go but up when you're at the rock bottom. If I have to be the hands that get you there, I'll do it Hayato. Mark my words Hayato – I'll make sure you can see the beauty of life again._

And with that, the two of them separated, falling back into the comfort of their own consciousnesses. And this time, Gokudera wasn't afraid of what he would see.

_**A/N: **__Yikes, that was definitely a massive chapter O.O sorry everyone! I think I might have made the end rush a little but...oh well...that's life XD and next up is the good ol' comfort scene ;D *Yamamoto: (rubs hands together) brilliant Gokudera: Oi, I was just traumatised! Don't go all 'goody goody' and rub your hands together! Me: (shrugs)…) The next one shouldn't be so monstrous, I promise :D And again, forgive me for any grammatical mistakes . (I don't have a beta tester and all I've got is my eyes, brain and spell check on Word which keeps thinking 'teh' is a word O_o) The next chapter should be up by the end of next week! (maybe saturday?) It'll be taking a little longer for them to come out now because of school and such T_T _


	7. Last Night, Good Night

_**A/N: **__Warnings do apply for this chapter! (falls off chair as lemon's suddenly pounce up on me) so if you don't like smut stuff, better not read the chapter ;) then we're all happy._

_MY GOD, I can't stop writing angst! (Bundles it up and kicks it out of my window. Good Riddance XD.) It _does _get more sweet and lovely later on, but until then, I somehow found that it needed to stay like that. (As in, the tension decreased, but the angst between them just sort of had to stay there. Without friction, then the last chapters mightn't as well have happened)_

_Oh, and I think I might have been a bit of an idiot and confused you with the bits that Gokudera did and or didn't remember, so just to make sure everything's clear. At first, all Gokudera could remember were those men. Then he remembered fire (which was when he broke through his own mental barrier) and Leo came last. But just as another twist in the plot, Leo won't be gone for good :D *gets out pitchforks and chainsaws for you all :D I'll leave you to do a you will :)*_

_**Reminder:**__ You might need to be patient with Gokudera and Yamamoto in this chapter (and maybe the next). Even if I might have over killed his situation (hope not O_o) Hopefully this won't be too monstrous a chapter, but with the amount of work these two need to have done on each other… *gets out my tools to fix 'em up*  
There should be more comfort / TLC next chapter too. (I can see my word scroll bar thingy getting shorter and shorter...EEP!) Remember, it's not just Gokudera here that's had a hard time – Yamamoto's got a whole lifetime's worth of burden's to shoulder and that can't be easy. However, I'll stop making poor Gokudera's life hell T.T he's been through enough. Let the TLC begin...slowly...XD(hands out tissues)_

**Chapter Seven – Last Night, Good Night**

"_Oh, I need the darkness  
The sweetness  
The sadness  
The weakness  
Oh, I need this  
I need a lullaby  
A kiss good night  
Angel sweet love of my life  
Oh, I need this..."  
_**-My Skin – Natalie Merchant**

Yamamoto opened his eyes with a start, surprised by how quickly all that had happened. In truth, he didn't know _what _to feel about his situation. Should he be angry? But then, at who? Should he feel sad, relieved, or...the possibilities swirled around in his head and he sat up, bending over himself, bringing his knees up, rocking back and forth. He felt pathetic at his reaction. Shouldn't he be right by his lovers side, holding him until the sun rose? Why couldn't it be that simple?

_Hayato, _he thought, _I just don't know what to do..._he squeeze his eyes shut, wishing to banish those unwanted echoes of his lover's memories. He'd felt like _he'd _been raped – it'd just been so visual, so _real. _The memories hadn't faded at all over time, they'd only gotten stronger. The worst of it was that Gokudera hadn't even remembered all of it initially. He'd blindly stumbled on some pretty big land mines all to show Yamamoto what he'd experienced as a child. With unseen, forgotten memories, Yamamoto had felt the trauma attack his lover, the now exposed memories wounding him cruelly, the guilt and shame clawing its way through his insides. For Yamamoto, it had been excruciating – he'd almost forgotten how to breathe.

He opened his eyes again; afraid of what he'd see dare he keep the closed any longer, noticing a body sat beside his. He snapped his gaze up to see Gokudera knelt by the window, gazing out to the stars. His elbow was pressed against the glass, head balanced on his fist, head resting against the window softly. Though he hadn't moved, Yamamoto was sure he knew he'd woken up. It was a trait he'd learnt well.

Relief flooded through him – Gokudera was awake, having snapped out of that numb, catatonic phase. _Thank God..._

Yamamoto shifted, moving so he was knelt in front of the boy, sat in a strange sort of hunched crouch. His hands were placed in front of him, planted just between his knees. He cocked his head to the side and was startled to see Gokudera's pained expression.

"Hayato...?"

Gokudera sensed more than heard the boy and looked around to Yamamoto, his eyes tentative. It seemed he was calculating his lover's reaction just as much as Yamamoto was.

"Do you hate me yet?" He asked blankly. He eyes weren't glazed, but they seemed very matter-of-fact. However, that pained expression was still there, barely conceived.

He tensed, anticipating Yamamoto's response to be awful, and tried to stop himself from crying again. Just when he'd woken up, he'd only had to look down at Yamamoto's troubled sleeping face and had burst into tears. He'd really dragged his lover into a whole recreation of hell. How could he have done it? But then, look at how strong Yamamoto had been – a true boulder in a raging storm that he had desperately clung to, holding fast.

The thought, centred on his selfishness and weakness ate away at him, hot as a comet in his chest. It was bad enough to be feeling like a smacked child, let alone begin to sink back into that wallowing pit of misery. He'd broken into so many nearly irreparable pieces over something that had happened five years ago. Wounds were meant to heal and fade in that amount of time, both physical and mental. He shouldn't still be feeling the after-effects of the ordeal, even if he _had _only just come to remember the entire story.

If he was still for too long, he felt the swarming heat of the fire curl around him, and shut his eyes momentarily. His own screams rattled back at him and with a gasp, he broke them open again. His breath was coming faster than before and he could feel himself begin to hyperventilate.

Yamamoto leant out to touch him, "Hayato..." he murmured adoringly, his eyes filled with nothing but concern.

Gokudera flinched, worried what his lovers touch would do to him, or rather, what kind of horrific damage he might do to Yamamoto.

"Please Yamamoto, just...leave...please," he begged angrily, feigning the latter emotion. Leo Grigori's existence was wedged in his psyche too deeply, a thorn that had lodged itself in his core. What had been so natural and some-what easy for them as a relationship was buckling under Grigori's indirect influence and Gokudera seethed from it. He shouldn't have this kind of power over him! Not anymore, not when he'd finally gotten away from him.

Yamamoto felt almost defeated by Gokudera's reaction and his hand dropped down. It had been a nearly impossible battle, but he had managed to get Gokudera to open up to him and accept him fully, both at the beginning of their relationship and it was even more now. But with a defiant glare, Yamamoto shook himself. He had not gone through all that effort and developed such an attachment to the boy to let it go to waste over that bastard Grigori. Gokudera meant more to him than just some experimental teenage _fling. _He'd outgrown that and understood that what he had with Gokudera was deeper and stronger than what either had initially imagined. He was tied to the boy inexplicably whether he wanted to be or not.

Just one glance at Gokudera's weary eyes and Yamamoto moved closer. His eyes widened and their frightened edge grew stronger, battling against his strong façade. He was acting like everything was all fine and dandy by being distant and forcing himself to sound matter of fact. Just like that question about whether Yamamoto hated him or not. He'd sounded entirely disinterested in his answer, but of course that wasn't the case. He could tell the boy was hanging on by a thread, with Yamamoto's relationship to him the only thing he could grip onto. Without it, he would lose it. Those tortured eyes told him it was painfully obvious he wasn't, even an idiot could tell.

It was definitely an infuriating trait the boy had picked up throughout his childhood. Ever the one to pretend it was all ok and dandy, Yamamoto could relate. It was his best feature, to act like the guy who smiled even through an earthquake. But _this, _the way Gokudera was retracting back into his shell and masking it with a calm, cold outer layer just irritated him. Did the guy have to be so damn _proud?_

Gokudera flinched at Yamamoto's piercing gaze. It was that one that could see through everything again, tearing down his strongest defences, asking no entrance and just barging in. It frightened him. He was afraid that the boy was misreading his intentions. Of course, if he voiced his concern and found that Yamamoto _did _actually hate him and was leaving him, contrary to what he'd promised, Gokudera wouldn't be able to stand it.

He was content with his illusions, even if that was all they were. If he had to imagine their bond then he would, as long as Yamamoto didn't look at him with those eyes. It seemed to the two that their eyes had become two maelstroms that either dragged you into Gokudera's thinly veiled despair and ever growing fear, or Yamamoto's blazing self-hatred and confusion. Neither world was particularly inviting, and both knew if they came too close, just like two identical poles of a magnet, then they would be thrown apart, back to the beginning. And then, without each others comfort to help them defeat the odds and crawl back together, would they be able to grapple with their own torments to overcome their demons?

Yamamoto felt distressed by Gokudera's dark, raw and frightened green eyes that seemed to glow in the moonlight, round as orbs. Though the boy may be the best of actors with his reputation as an irascible, uncontrollable misfit who didn't know his place in society, when he himself was under the strain of life, he couldn't hide his looming despair.

Dejectedly, Gokudera threw down his walls shamefully, letting his eyes display all the overpowering fear and panic he felt knotting itself in his chest and ribs. It was a tight vine of thorns that encircled him, its thorns piercing him whenever he breathed. Only this boy could heal him, but it was his decision. Let the rose bush blossom under his touch or watch while it rotted without its nurturing master.

In that moment, the second Gokudera opened himself up fully for him again, Yamamoto was let into that spiralling madness in the boys eyes. That piercing spark of dangerous instability that insanity so happily danced to that Gokudera was trying so desperately hard to shield from him.

Madness was a tempting thought, whispering in our strangest of thoughts, lingering with us before we sleep, hovering above us when we wake from our nightmares. It encloses us in its impenetrable cage in our most vulnerable moments, springing from out darkest fears, our despair its favourite melody. It manipulated us, twisting our reality into whatever shaped it deemed fit to throw us off the edge. It was our reflection in the mirror, the face no-one but _you _saw, those eyes you knew so well that look back at you with that expression of onerous insanity. _You know me. You know I'm there. I'm the face you look at; it's not something you can deny. _

That was exactly what was happening to Gokudera. The sickening shadow was clinging to his memories, creeping closer with each step Yamamoto took away from him.

_Screw you, _Yamamoto shot towards the looming darkness that was beginning to drag him away. God, not _again. _It was beginning to piss him off, but of course, that was what Gokudera's memories fed off. They used people's hatred, whatever form they were, to fuel his doubt and ease his descent into that black pool of nothingness where the world dimmed like it had before, numbing him to the core.

Yamamoto moved closer, and he saw the madness reel in the boy's eyes. He was startled by Yamamoto's persistence, and watched while the boy tried to understand his intentions.

Whilst he mulled over absent-mindedly, Yamamoto locked his arms around the boy tightly, hugging him to him as strongly as he could without bruising him. No matter the consequence, he wouldn't see his lover go under. Just, _no. _

He held him close, pressing his face into the hollow of his neck and drank in his intoxicating scent. That overpowering smell of cigarettes and mint was something Yamamoto couldn't live without any longer and took in Gokudera's scent like it might be his last.

"T-Takeshi...!" Gokudera flailed, trying to pull away, "Don't, please...!" He was too vulnerable, to broken to understand that his lover's intentions were for his own good. He knew where the dynamite was in his drawers. If he could get away, he would be able to grab it and blow them both into the atmosphere. Whatever Yamamoto was trying to do, all he could see it as was a threat and he had had enough of being threatened.

Even as he struggled, Yamamoto stuck fast. He wondered if he was doing more damage than good, but threw the thought aside. Gokudera needed and wanted comfort now and he would gladly give him it. He could worry and freak out later. Right now was the time when he either lost this wonderful boy or saved him.

Gokudera stopped shortly, his punches seemingly getting him nowhere anytime soon. So, instead, he cried, clutching Yamamoto's shirt for all he was worth, his voice hoarse and dry from already shed tears while the sobs tore out of him.

All the while, Yamamoto did nothing – he didn't rock them back and forth, didn't usher calming nonsense but just knelt there, clutching the boy, resting his head peacefully on his shoulder. He sighed softly as he cradled Gokudera's sobbing form, his eyes closed in soft melancholy.

Whilst he cried, Gokudera listened to the soft sound of Yamamoto's calm breathing, the soft unobtrusive sound of rain pattering against the window softly, as if ushering him peace. Maybe Gokudera could stay like this for a while, holding onto his lover like this, as if his heart would forget to beat if he let go. In any case, he wasn't going anywhere, not in his state. The damn world could wait.

Much as he wanted to scream out in frustration and shake some damn sense into Gokudera's thick head until he understood just how much this wasn't his fault, he knew that wasn't going to help. Gokudera was worryingly traumatized and didn't seem to be exactly 'all there' upstairs. There were still a few flickering lights.

The need to have comfort, patience and the assurance of an understanding were painfully obvious and Yamamoto knew they would be the best medicines, not impatience and his uncharacteristic asperity.

The Italian strangely reminded him of a stray cat he had fed as a child on his way home from school. It had been terribly beaten, either by other children or by another animal. When he'd offered it food, it had hissed and bitten his hand while snatching the food. Even when he stayed crouched down, offering it more food; the animal seemed unable to understand that he was only looking out for its best interest. It seemed you _could _be hurt enough to forget who was your enemy. It was a matter of everyone becoming your own adversary. Nothing could come for free; even when from a good heart like Yamamoto's who had asked for nothing in return.

Even when the hand reaching to gently cup his head, wanting only to pet and love him, it was difficult for Gokudera to trust it, hard for him to resist that instinctual flinch. He shouldn't expect brutality stood hand-in-hand with abandonment from the swordsman, but memories and experience told him otherwise. He hoped unlike nearly every other man he'd met in his life, Yamamoto was one without another face, one he could hide behind and do whatever he pleased to anyone he fancied. The boy couldn't have such a degree of cruelty lurking in his heart – it was impossible; he knew the Japanese teen, all too well in fact.

The swordsman's eyes stung with astringent rejection. He really did think all he was doing was stumbling around in the dark without a clue how to proceed like a fool without a torch. It was so difficult to give Gokudera the space he needed when he had no idea how much should be given until it seemed like desertion.

Yet slowly, at an unbearable pace, his calm, harmless intentions made their way through to Gokudera, no doubt another bonus to the soothing effects of possessing the affinity for Rain. His sobs quietened and before long it became deep, shuddering breaths that soon turned into short, sharp, and very much uncertain chuckles with disjointed derision.

"You absolute..." he breathed raggedly, "_ritardare. Onestamente!_" He chuckled at how he was the only one who understood the insult.

Yamamoto laughed, a shaky, dry sound, "Don't insult me in a language I don't get. That's just..." He searched for a way to make his retort sound witty and grasped only at short straws. Damn, he really hadn't been blessed with the best of brains had he?

Gokudera loosened his grip on the boy but stayed close. He drew back only so he could look at Yamamoto, his normally drawn eyes wide open with their graciousness. The guy had just done something not even _he _had thought he could do. It had been risky but well worth the consequences. Finally, he saw the last of the lights flicker on in the upstairs department and the swordsman almost cried with joyful relief as it pounded in time to his heart.

Gokudera was torn between annoyance and pride for Yamamoto and his apparent lack of self-preservation and his unbending will. It reminded him of himself, but with a softer, less sharp edge to it. While Gokudera was all blazing and brilliant in his own self-righteousness, with prickly barbs and sharp edges with only a few well hidden routes in under his guard through the maze of thorns that covered his body, Yamamoto was far gentler and trusting.

He didn't judge until he found a reason to. With that thought, he settled with a sort of strange of adoration and respect towards the swordsman. The guy had proved his reputation for unpredictability and blatant yet precise stupidity by throwing himself at Gokudera when he had been fully aware of what he might have done. His insolence was almost endearing. Almost.

His straightforward way of doing things was such a contrast to how analytical Gokudera was, except, in contrast to his intellectual way of looking at things, Gokudera was also a risk taker by nature – he liked to shake the tree and see what fell out - _Then _came the analytical thinking. It was the same for when voicing their opinions. Yamamoto, ever the diplomat, would keep his true opinion to himself and say what benefitted each side while Gokudera blundered in, bulldozing everyone else's opinion with his own. If he had a point to make, he'd make sure everyone heard it.

He stared into those deep brown eyes and it really just had to be admitted that there _was_ something innately captivating and attractive about a will that would not bow, even when obedience was the better option – the _smarter _option. But then, if Yamamoto wasn't so black and white about things, would Gokudera still feel strangely attracted to him?

There was one thing the Italian couldn't stop himself from saying – he had to, there was no discussion on the matter, it had to be said. Well, it seemed to be necessary now, but once said, he was fairly certain he'd be dancing to another tune.

"I wish you hadn't seen all that," Gokudera blurted the thought in a whisper before he realized that he was actually speaking aloud. He immediately wished he could call the words back. Once said, words were unable to be taken back, but then again, he would rather have said them than be haunted by what might've happened had he spoken.

His cheeks flushed hotly, pink with shame. He ducked his head, eyes focused on the wall studiously "its n-not that you didn't deserve to know, but, just not like...ugh..._damnit!_" Forcibly, he took a deep breath, not sure what to say and wishing he had kept his mouth shut. Common sense or no, he _had _to learn how to his own trap closed.

He had the sense and bleating intelligence to know that he wouldn't have been able to evade the truth from his lover for too long, not once he had remembered it all. It was foolish to be that idealistic in a world like today'. Still, he felt incredibly ashamed about _how _Yamamoto had come to understand his situation. Vaguely, he remembered being crouched in the shower, wishing for it all to end, to have the cold water wash him away - Warm, strong arms encircling him, a frantic voice and hot breaths - Had that all been Yamamoto? He barely remembered it. His vision had been so patchy and blurred by his past, he'd just switched himself off entirely.

Still, his weakness felt somehow humiliating – he should have had the strength to at least _tell _Yamamoto instead of stooping to the level of a jittering wreck. He had been going to, he'd had enough resolve to share his past with his lover, but not _all _the moments – like the cold slash of the whip on his skin, and how he'd begun to buck feverishly against Leo's seductive hands. But he'd fallen, and Yamamoto had fallen with him, shining a blazing beacon across every moment, a sharp spotlight that left no corner untouched. Not exactly the way he'd wanted it to play out but no matter. Shit happened and he just had to deal with it.

"So..." Gokudera asked again, but with real strength supporting him now. His voice wasn't half there anymore. It held its own and he felt more whole than he had in years, "Still hate me? Maybe? Not so much?" He cocked his eyebrow, snuffing out the candle of fear that threatened to flicker brightly in his stomach. If Yamamoto wanted to reject him, then that was _his _decision. It wasn't Gokudera's place to force the boy to admit to something that wasn't true – it would only fuel his illusions and they were something he wanted to banish as quickly as possible. He was in reality, and he would stay there.

Both mental and physical pain swum through the swordsman - dizziness accompanying it as his muscles tensed under the pressure. He was so confused, so blindly lost he couldn't understand. Gokudera seemed stable, he seemed _strong, _but Yamamoto just had to wrap his head around his whirling emotions. He wanted to freeze them and arrange them into categories so he could finally keep it up. Just a _moment _to organise this chaos whirling in his mind would be a blessing.

Did he love Gokudera? What kind of question was that? Yes of course he fricking did, honestly! Hadn't he just convinced himself of that? _For God's sake, get your damn act together! _He swiftly gave himself a mental slap. Had he _not _just felt that blissful rush of relief swoop in on him? What other proof did he want, a declaration carved in stone? Jesus, he could be so hopelessly ridiculous. Questioning something as solid as his feelings for Gokudera...God...what was the _matter _with him?

Yamamoto mashed his lips together, "of course not...I hate you for keeping all that pent up inside you...I despise that man for doing that to you...but what I hate most of all is," he looked up with a pained expression, "is that you think you have to be _forgiven _Hayato_._"

Gokudera flinched, "So what you said to me before, were you lying? Can you _not_ forgive me?" His eyes saddened, but seemed to accept it. The truth bit at him, but he wasn't a child anymore. He had to accept it one day, so why not now?

Yamamoto sighed, exasperated with the both of them, "No, I _do _forgive you Hayato, but I can't understand what it is that I'm forgiving you _for. _It just...I'm confused..."

Gokudera looked back outside the window amusedly, "Well that makes two of us then."

He was silent for a moment, then spoke so quietly Yamamoto nearly missed it, "I began to _like _it Yamamoto. It's disgusting really but still...I just..." He gripped his hair angrily. He was being such a retard. Hadn't he already gotten over this? Yeah, his life had been utterly shit back in Italy, but now he was in Japan, it was better, more...whole. _Yes_, he'd been raped and abused and thrown around like a tool, but life wasn't like that anymore. It was a past-life, one that hadn't caught itself in this one yet – he intended to keep it that way.

"You were _traumatised_," Yamamoto spoke blankly, insinuating each word, "You're body did what it could to adapt and survive. It's pretty simple really Hayato. Everything that happened; it wasn't something that you need to be _forgiven _for. It wasn't your fault."

"But…" Gokudera objected. Hadn't Yamamoto heard him? Or, in fact, _seen _what he had done under Grigori's touch? He'd practically bucked and cried out like a worthless slut. Correction, he _was _a worthless whore.

"No, no buts," Yamamoto shook his head, pressing it against the crown of the Italian's, drawing him closer. "Stop making excuses. What happened was not your fault. I wanted to know, and I'm glad I do."

"But it _was, _Yamamoto, it just...it _was,_" Gokudera whispered hoarsely, almost unable to speak without his voice choking. He was too afraid to hope. Hope didn't make sense and neither did his thoughts. "A-and when you finally realize that, then...I just know you're gonna..."

Yamamoto shook his head back and forth vigorously, angered by how little the boy thought of his morality. It was damn frustrating to see Gokudera this torn up! _What did he have to say to get the boy to believe him? _He had a strange, uncharacteristic urge to shake some sense into the boy until he saw what he was so blatantly missing.

"What Hayato? You actually thinkI'll leave you like that heartless bastard did? Please," he tightened his grip, "just ... would you _stop_ with the one-track mind? It's nearly insulting. You're stuck with me, alright? I wouldn't leave you even if it _had _been your fault and you'd outright seduced him. Jesus, you were just a _kid._" He groaned angrily, annoyed with Gokudera's growing sense of denial and his inability to stay calm. His tone was rough as sandpaper, but his eyes moist with gentle tears. A kid – that's all he'd been. Thinking back to when he'd been that age, obsessed by whether or not a girl in his class fancied him, or if he might be asked to play for the school team in baseball, while Gokudera had been _sold _and then...he swallowed the bile in his throat. He should have been as carefree as he had been – it was just how it was supposed to be. Things like this aren't meant to happen to children; especially those like Gokudera who carried the guilt with them to their graves, letting the hatred eat away at them.

He forced his throat to work, "Hayato, please...just...I want you to listen to me for once and _try_ to understand." Yamamoto took the other boy's face tenderly between cupped palms, fixing him with an unbreakable gaze.

"I am not, and never have been, some idealistic, starry-eyed dreamer. Ok, you aren't perfect, but who is on this planet?" Gokudera turned his gaze away, "_Look at me_ Hayato. Not once did I ever see you as some flawless being that nobody could touch. True, I didn't imagine you had to carry such a heavy, painful burden, but it doesn't make me love you any less. You don't need to be perfect in order for me to love you. The only thing you have to be is _you – _stubborn, rude, rebellious and impossible to please." He saw Gokudera draw his eyebrows together at how the swordsman listed off all his bad points, "But it makes me love you when I see that you can be tender, be fragile. I know you're someone who shields their kindness and shows it only to those who are close to them. _That's_ who I fell in love with. What happened to you in the past was _awful_, but it doesn't change anything, not to me." Yamamoto pressed his forehead to Gokudera's gently, noticing how their breaths were coming fast, both taken aback by what he'd said. Had he enough energy, Yamamoto might have flushed from the confession.

Yamamoto felt like his nerves were frayed and stretched to breaking point. He had no idea what he should do. A shower would have been ideal, but with the state it was in, he decided against it – he couldn't separate himself from Gokudera for that long. He felt like if he left, the boy would disappear, being nothing but a dream.

They were still hugging each other like they might die without the contact, but Yamamoto wanted more. He didn't want to look at Gokudera and only see the imprint of those men. He wanted to bury their touch with his own, wash their hands away with his – replace their harsh, rough touches with his gentle, tender caresses that the boy deserved. He had to be told how to be _loved, _not to be _used._

They sat in silence for a few moments; both lost in their own troubles, worried by the others reactions if they made a sound or voiced a question that might be misunderstood.

Yamamoto made the first move, his around Gokudera's midriff tightening, pulling him down onto the bed. Gokudera made no complaints and lay down, his back to Yamamoto. He felt the boy's back pressed against his chest, and unconsciously their breathing synchronised, already accustomed to each others biological chemistry. It almost seemed like their hearts were beating at the same tempo, their breaths synchronising effortlessly.

Gokudera absent-mindedly laced his fingers through Yamamoto's, rubbing his thumbs over the top of his hands, the feel of his skin under his sating his nerves. He was too good for him – far too good. Such a solid, decent guy like him shouldn't even _know _someone like him. It seemed as though fate had a pretty wicked sense of humour.

He felt pathetic for needing the physical contact, but it helped soothe him, "You're too good at being the good guy."

Yamamoto swallowed. Gokudera was so strong at picking himself up he envied it. He felt a small pang of relief take the edge off his worry at the joke his lover had made. He was using all his strength to not quiver at the touch of Gokudera's hands on his own, the warmth radiating off his back. This skin, this beautiful unscarred skin had been touched and hurt in such a vulgar, repulsive manner it nearly made him sick. Those bastards deserved to be murdered...preferably slowly with blunt weapons.

Gokudera shifted uncomfortably, aware of the stare that was focused on the back of his neck. The murderous intent radiating from Yamamoto was a little extreme for him to deal with right now.

"Yamamoto...?" He spoke the boy's last name, both annoyance and apprehension racing against his heart. What he would give to be in the swordsman's head right now. Ah, the irony...how bitter it could be.

When he'd woken up, Gokudera had nearly had another mental breakdown, but then, remembering what Yamamoto had promised him, had told him...he'd pushed it back down, knowing that such a thing would get him nowhere. With that, he'd felt his resolve solidify and in a rush, he felt utterly in control. Maybe a little numb, but no matter, it would pass. If he had to walk on from this with the extra luggage shared between him and Yamamoto, then he would. It was only the case of whether Yamamoto was willing to hold up his end of the bargain.

Yamamoto sensed the direction of his lover's thoughts and unnecessarily added, "I'm _not_ going to betray you Hayato. I promised to stay by you. I just wish I knew you were alright...for certain. I don't want you to keep acting like you're alright." His voice stuttered and wobbled, doubtful of his own thoughts and Gokudera squeezed his hand encouragingly.

There was a sharp pang in his chest at that, but of course, it was to be expected. He'd just thrown light on every ugly corner of his life. Of course the guy was gonna have suffered from whiplash.

"I am now," he ushered, pressing his back up against Yamamoto's chest further, the soft pressure sending welcomed jolts of warmth through his chilled body. If he was the night, then Yamamoto was the warm fire that made it bearable. They balanced each other perfectly. Gokudera was extreme, rash and almost _unbearably _unpredictable, but Yamamoto effortlessly countered that with his calm demeanour. They really did act as light and dark. The other wouldn't survive if its opposite disappeared, and so they continued to circle each other, balancing each other perfectly.

There was a light knock at their door and Yamamoto begrudgingly got up to open it up. He was startled to see Chrome there with Reborn.

"G-good evening Yamamoto-kun," she stuttered, ever the polite girl. Of course, Reborn was courteous as always, stamping on Yamamoto's foot.

"Ouch!" he exclaimed, resisting the urge to grip his sore foot. For a child, the kid sure had some big feet.

"We need to see Gokudera," the infant said flatly, "downstairs, less than a minute. Got it?"

And with that Chrome and Reborn disappeared down the staircase.

"Hayato-" he began, but was caught off guard by the Italian stood beside him already, still dressed in his black t-shirt and baggy jeans, except now with his customary chained belt. How on _earth _did he get that out so fast? Then again, at the state their room was nearly always in, they mightn't as well have wardrobes.

"It's alright, I won't be long. I'm sure they're just checking I won't lose my marbles any time soon," he made his way around Yamamoto but was stopped by his arm, "uh...Takeshi?" He looked down to his pointedly that blocked his way out. That demanding look in the swordsman's eyes was strangely..._attractive. _He liked that possessive flash that flitted across his amber eyes. It sent warm shudders through his muscles.

Yamamoto knew better than to say it but, "Are you?"

Gokudera frowned, "Unless I get a brain transplant..." he judged Yamamoto's expression with a smirk, but a kind one, "no. Relax would you?" He wished he hadn't said it with such a flippant tone, but he didn't want the guy to worry too much. No use mulling over a problem that wasn't there.

Relieved, Yamamoto let the boy pass, but was surprised when Gokudera spun around. He was blushing, his ears reddening. He tucked a lock of his silver hair behind his ear, and looked to the side, brows furrowing, "Takeshi?"

Yamamoto looked up from his feet, leant against the door, "yeah?" That dark flush was so damn alluring the swordsman had hurriedly banish any indecent thoughts before his body became annoyingly aroused. Now was definitely _not _the time for that kind of thing.

Gokudera shuffled his feet, trying to hold eye contact, "_grazie_...for helping me. You might not want to..._touch_ me again, in _that _way, which is fine," he held up his hands which Yamamoto noticed were quivering slightly, "I don't want you to force yourself. If all you want to be is friends...I'm cool with that."

Yamamoto asked emotionlessly, "Is that all _you _want?" he certainly didn't want to just be friends with Gokudera. Not since he'd set eyes on him. Not even now, knowing all he did about the Italian's past. He was his lover, through and through – only Gokudera could tell him otherwise. His heart tugged at the thought of having to part from him in that way, watch him slowly love someone else over the years. It was a painful thought but he didn't want to be selfish. Gokudera's wants came before his, no matter how torn his heart was between loving the boy against his will and leaving him.

Gokudera bit on the inside bit of his lip, fingering one of his chains, "_non proprio_," he looked at Yamamoto sideways, cheeks reddening further. Yamamoto couldn't help but smile. Gokudera always spoke in Italian when he was flustered, "not really..." he admitted in Japanese this time, his eyes breaking eye contact, focusing on the floor. Beneath his bangs, his face was turning a very adorable red, and it took quite a hefty chunk of his better sense to not take the boy in his arms right then and there.

A welcomed wash of relief swept over the swordsman. It seemed Gokudera was prepared to wait for him to get his head screwed on properly just as much as he had waited for Gokudera since he'd caught on to his emotional instability. It meant more to him that words could express.

Unexpectedly, Gokudera stepped forward and brushed his lips across Yamamoto's, a ghost of what they had done before...well, _before..._but still very much a kiss. It warmed Yamamoto's stomach and sent it into a frenzy. Butterflies flew around in his gut when Gokudera's lips kissed his cheek as well, before retracting, smiling bashfully before he turned around and made his way downstairs.

Confused far past expression, Yamamoto staggered into the bathroom, startled to find it had been cleaned up. He'd wanted to take something off his frantic thoughts, but it seemed somebody had already beaten him to it. Instead, he rested his palms on the basin of the sink, staring at himself in the mirror.

God, he looked undeniably _awful_. His eyes were wide and owl-like, skin pale and his lips wouldn't stop quivering. They felt warm from where Gokudera had touched them, and he wished deep down that he'd made more of it...but what had happened had happened and he couldn't change that.

So why was he so torn between his emotions? He felt..._unsettled, _to say the least by what he'd seen in Gokudera's memories, and was worried that the boy was pretending he was alright, but from what he'd seen and the newfound clarity in the boy's eyes, the matter became highly debatable. It seemed he had moved on and was just waiting for Yamamoto to accompany him.

He wished he could so easily. He wished he could go back to how it was before everything got so complicated. He wanted things to be easier...god...

With a grunt, Yamamoto slapped himself in the face, hard. He was being ridiculous. Here he was, pining away like a kicked puppy when the real traumatised one here had already picked himself up and walked away from it. True, who was going to clean up the mess, but at least he'd decided to _go _somewhere. He had a goal and though he had lost sight of it temporarily, Yamamoto had helped him see it again.

Whatever words he had wished to give the Italian when he'd woken up had failed him utterly, so much that he couldn't even speak a word of comfort – all he had been able to do was cling to him after having gawked at the boy for what had probably been an age. Nothing but that strong, dependable, arrogant, irritable, wonderful and gentle boy that had been so achingly hurt held him fixed to the ground. To have that done to you at such a vulnerably young age should have destroyed him - It nearly _had_. Yamamoto couldn't stand that thought and it burned him to think that life was complicated. He felt furious, heart broken, and sick. Those adults should have frickin' _protected _him, not used him like a puppet. And to think the Italian had been _sold _back and forth between families_. _It was despicable.

Another mental kick to his consciousness. He really was getting too caught up in this.

_C'mon_...all he had to do was get his act together and get over this.

Splashing cold water over his face to wake himself up, Yamamoto made his way back to his bedroom, sagging down onto the mattress gratefully. He was practically dressed for bed, so threw the covers over his body and his arms over the back of his head, gazing up at the ceiling wearily.

Questions continued to circle in his mind, neither one staying long enough to be of any value. They conjured themselves as quickly as they disintegrated. None got the answers they were searching for.

_Hayato..._the boy thought longingly. He wished to touch him, to hold him in his arms and kiss him for hours, possess every single inch of his body to make sure that it was his. He wanted to stamp his own mark on him, one powerful enough to wipe out the scars left by those scum bags.

His head ached from the memories and for a moment he wished he'd never seen them. The term 'ignorance is bliss' came to mind but he squashed it. He understood how vulnerable a position Gokudera was in. He'd all but given him his heart on a platter with a skewer beside it. Now it was his decision. Of course he wanted to take the boy in his arms and never let go, but with so many other factors, under the given circumstances, he had reason enough to be confused.

But he _loved _him. So damn much – he would have thought that aspect would have made it easier. Instead, it just made it all the more difficult. To do what was best for himself, or look out for Gokudera's best interest? It was a precarious balance, with one fault tipping it critically. Either could push the boy away and cause him to fear Yamamoto, something he never wanted.

_Please be careful Hayato, _Yamamoto warned no-one, _I'm inclining myself to keep my cool because I love you too much to let my concern show, but...I'm certainly not bulletproof, no matter how many I can deflect with my katana._

The thought carried a small waft of humour with it, and it helped lift his mood. In blatant terms, it was a simple choice. To walk away or to stay and to stay would mean for good. He understood this decision wasn't temporary. It was potentially life-altering. But he'd made up his mind long ago. Gokudera made him stronger, his heart steadier and his life more fulfilled. Where Tsuna had added spice, Gokudera had added importance and an actual _reason _to go and risk his own neck. Before him, he'd gone about his daily life like any other average high-school guy like himself. Smile at the girls like you care, do a well as you can with your bad grades and make up for it with sport. Of course, not all guys were like that. Take Gokudera – well renowned for his bad-boy attitude and outstanding IQ, he'd become the girls' new obsession within a day. Quite a relief for someone like Yamamoto who despised all the attention, but then, everything had a way of coming back and biting you in the ass. Gokudera had gotten quite a bit of attention, and that had fed his jealously greedily.

_God, I'm pathetic_, the boy observed critically.

His mind was made up. Most would say it was a rash decision and blame it on inexperience and immaturity, but to him, it was the only way he could restore his relationship with the Italian fully. He was so tired though...so _exhausted_...he needed the rest...and before he could stop himself, his eyes had shut and he'd begun to doze soundly.

Barely a few minutes later, the door opened quietly and Gokudera shuffled in.

"Damn, that was annoying," he moaned, cracking his neck. Who knew being grilled by someone as docile as Chrome could be so _draining?_ And Reborn...well, didn't his name speak for itself? Having seen the two out and used all of his good natured side to appear well mannered, he'd all but slammed the door and locked it the moment they had set a foot down on the doorstep.

In the darkened, but body warmed room, he looked around for the baseball nut and smiled when he saw him already tucked in for bed, breathing softly.

Honestly, the guy had done so much for him. He'd only _just, _by an impossibly narrow margin, kept his head and managed to get back on his feet. Without the strength of this boy, he knew it would have been an unfeasible effort on his part. Whatever courage he had now was all because of this glorious, wondrous boy.

Truly, Yamamoto seemed invulnerable now; it wasn't like how Gokudera wanted to be seen as the aloof, untouchable soldier. But Yamamoto, he'd...developed a strength that defied knowledge, even surprised Reborn with his development. He'd grown up immensely since they'd met - his eyes were no longer naïve but stubborn and morally sound, filled with ordeals far beyond his years.

And as much as that aggravated Gokudera's competitive streak... perhaps there was a softer, more vulnerable part of him that clung to that too with biting desperation. He had always searched for strength and benevolence in a person, but had always found one without the other. Maybe, just perhaps, Yamamoto was the one who possessed both, each balancing the other to make him what he was - a perfect collaboration of yin and yang.

Yes, that power Yamamoto asserted just when he stood, that ability to carry himself with such ease and confidence...itwas intensely compelling, but then to have to watch that strength vanish with the rise of fear that he had seen today...that unshakable panic...it twisted his gut, dislodging his organs. Gokudera had lost too much, _everyone _nearly. He felt more than cursed, and feared that anyone he cared about would die, especially at the hands of Grigori. Even though he'd vanished from his life five years ago, Gokudera felt somewhere in the back of his mind, an oh-so paranoid voice warning him. _Don't get too close, you'll burn them._

He shouldn't care about anyone anymore, hadn't he learned his lesson yet? Of course he shouldn't, the matter didn't even have to be discussed. Besides, did his personality not speak for itself? An arrogant, obnoxious, foul mouthed stubborn rebellious punk like him was one of those people you knew could _never _love or be loved. But here he was, knelt by someone's bed, his _lover's _bed, wishing for more than what he was being given.

He _did _care for Yamamoto, more than the world and its riches combined, but he hated how the boy would load everyone's worries onto his own back and would shoulder it all with that same unbothered smile. The sudden, mere thought that he could possibly lose the swordsman too was enough to send Gokudera's enclosed heart reeling with aching, dull shots of pain. As stupid and hopeless as it was, Yamamoto was all he had. And he wouldn't lose him to anybody. If he was able to belong to somebody in this world, then it would be _him._

He knelt down, cocking an eyebrow, resting a palm on Yamamoto's cheek. His long black lashes touching his cheeks softly were endearing and a rare, small smile tugged at the corner of his lips. Had anyone asked his opinion of the boy a good year ago, he would have scoffed and kicked Yamamoto in the back as if that would have been a good enough response.

"You've changed a lot," he observed softly. He'd expected the boy to change after what he saw but was relieved to know that he wouldn't be left behind as his lover moved forward from it. Content with the fleeting contact, Gokudera went to pull away from the sleeping the swordsman and let him sleep. God knew he needed it.

He went to get up and hop into his own bed when Yamamoto's hand lashed out and clasped onto Gokudera's.

Gokudera feigned annoyance, "Honestly, I won't put a dagger to my throat," but stopped at the expression he saw on his face. It begged for some sort of comfort. Gokudera sighed irritably. He always had a knack for getting annoyed by things very easily. Wasn't the situation meant to be reversed? Shouldn't this narcotic baseball nut be the one comforting _him_? No matter, he wouldn't stress it. Just give him what he wants. It was high time he grew up and shut out that selfish obnoxious brat he had been before. He might not be the best at showing affection, but when he did, it was all the more precious.

He sat down on the bed, looking at the boy with a wry smile, "Yes, your highness? You want me to massage your feet?"

Yamamoto frowned and Gokudera just continued to look at him with that wry look. If he was going to stay here, he might as well have his fun. It would be all the proof the swordsman would need to know that he was ok.

"Hayato..." he mumbled, his voice seeming to be caught by sleep.

"What?" Gokudera felt tired as well and wasn't in the mood to do much more than consol his partner before hurrying into his own bed.

"You were an idiot for doing what you did..." he fought back a yawn. He said it rather pragmatically and Gokudera bristled at the notion. Hadn't Yamamoto _just _stepped into his shoes and walked over a mile in them? Who was he to be preaching like the grand messiah? Maybe his actions hadn't been the most justified, but at the time it had been his best way of handling it. Though, it always was amusing to listen to Yamamoto's rambles when he was tired – they were so out rightly honest and raw, without all the frills of a diplomat. It helped give a little insight into what the swordsman actually _did_ think of things.

Not wanting him to see how much he wanted to stay, Gokudera made a '_tch_' sound and was about to get up but Yamamoto gripped his hand tighter and dragged the boy down so he was straddling his hips. Surprised by the movement, Gokudera's hands had sprung out and were placed on either side of Yamamoto's head, his face precariously close. If looking at it from a third person's point of view, the top half looked like a strange press-up position and the bottom half...well...it wasn't too difficult to imagine what two straddled boy's were going to get up to.

Gokudera blushed, "Moron-!"

"You're the moron," Yamamoto growled huskily and brought his face up to kiss him. It was soft and gentle, contrary to his tone, but it deepened quickly, his lips easing Gokudera's mouth open tenderly.

Gokudera started, relief flooding his burning body as Yamamoto's mouth assaulted him in a trembling, almost desperate wave of passion that seemed to have just broken open. Though it may not be as important to Yamamoto, it gave Gokudera the important delusion of connectivity with his lover, of being wanted as well as desired – not used for someone else's sick sadistic game where mockery, pain, disgrace and shame were the only cards dealt. It made him feel like nothing had changed between them at all – that all they were doing was expressing their affections for each other and he'd be damned if he didn't go all the way tonight.

Where Gokudera had thought he would be frightened by such intimate contact so soon after closing old, dangerous wounds, he was surprised to see that it instead helped seal them permanently. Where those men had been brutal and sadistic, letting Gokudera see the raw temptation and addiction found in such pleasure, Yamamoto brought him the joy of it. Hesitantly, Yamamoto seeked entrance to the boy's inviting mouth and with a growl, Gokudera accepted him, devouring the boy's tongue with his own.

For a moment, Yamamoto wondered whether he was being inconsiderate towards his lover, having claimed him in such a forceful manner. The boy could still feel vulnerable from his recently cracked open past, so Yamamoto's dominance may have been the last thing on his mind. It didn't seem to be the case though with how Gokudera was pressing himself closer, deepening their kiss as much as he could, groaning as Yamamoto's hands curled in his hair and shirt.

There was a dull hot ache in his chest, but Yamamoto knew the wound was fine. It was just his rising heart rate pumping more blood around his body that had made his wound complain.

Slowly, careful not to hurt him, Gokudera pushed his fingers under Yamamoto's shirt and ran themselves over his bandaged chest. His touch was light and he was startled by how Yamamoto groaned sensually, pushing his chest up into Gokudera's palm.

Yamamoto's lips were so soft and moist, trailing across his jaw and sucking on his neck. Gokudera couldn't mask the moan that resounded deep in his throat, a husky demand for more.

If he had to be culpable for anything, then he would most definitely be satisfied with this.

But it seemed Yamamoto had better control over his aroused senses, pulling away.

Gokudera didn't want to whimper at the loss of the contact, and instead was about to press his mouth to Yamamoto's when the swordsman's fingers pressed against his flushed lips gently.

"What?" He asked breathlessly, his lungs seeming empty – he couldn't get enough oxygen from the surrounding air.

Yamamoto seemed uncomfortable, and Gokudera was immediately concerned, thinking he'd aggravated his chest wound.

"Stop...if we continue I might..." even in the dim moonlight, Gokudera noticed the attractive blush, "I might do something I shouldn't...I don't..."

"Shh," Gokudera whispered seductively, opening his mouth to take one of Yamamoto's fingers. He sucked on the digit sensually, suggestively, "you don't need my consent Takeshi – I've always been yours."

Yamamoto gasped in response, and from where Gokudera sat straddling his hips, he could feel a slowly hardening bulge beginning to form under him to match his own arousal.

Refusing to give in to temptation just yet, Gokudera let his fingers comb through his lovers short, adoringly mussed black tufts of hair, relishing in their warm silky, soft texture under his fingers, so unlike typical coarse Japanese hair. Yamamoto shifted under him, his head leaning into Gokudera's touch in a cat-like gesture of contentment that reminded him of Uri.

Yamamoto's chest pain eased at the admission from his lover and a throaty possessive growl rumbled in his throat, "Yes, you _are _mine."

Gokudera purred near his ear, breath rustling his dark hair, "_not yet._" His tone promised many things and Yamamoto groaned pleasurably. In one swift move, Yamamoto had gripped Gokudera's biceps and had turned him over and reversed their positions. With Gokudera rolled onto his back beneath him, he straddled the boys hips, his weight pinning the assassin to the mattress, pressing the hard, hungry lines of their aroused bodies together through the fabric of their trousers.

"Damn, jeans are so restrictive," Yamamoto said wryly while unzipping Gokudera's fly. The denim was tight and it was difficult for him but he managed to get a hold of Gokudera's hardened arousal within a few moments and Gokudera gripped the bed sheets, keening as Yamamoto pumped him tenderly.

Gokudera felt fire shoot through him, pleasure creeping up to blur his vision, thick as hot lava. His lips parted slightly in a soft, pleasured gasp while he tried to focus his gaze up at his lover that was taking his t-shirt off. He had to release his hold over Gokudera's manhood for a moment to get the obstructive clothing off of him and Gokudera seized the opportunity to help him undress.

Both entirely naked now, dribs and drabs of their clothes strewn across the floor and bedspread, Yamamoto hovered over him, drinking in the sight before him, liking very much what he saw.

Gokudera's silver hair fanned out over the pillows and the startling burst of green in his eyes made the swordsman's body feel like it was on fire – a fire that he wasn't in any mood to ignore. Gokudera's entire body could have been taken straight from an artists' dream – beauty and passion incarnate with the lone soul of a tortured hero that kept his troubles hidden – such an attractive sight. How long had it been since Yamamoto had seen that? Not just this incredibly hot image that made an unbearable fire pool in his groin... but...Gokudera... looking happy and _safe_? Yamamoto caught himself, pride swelling in his chest. Gokudera trusted him so fully he was giving him his heart and soul in such a vulnerable situation, trusting the boy would protect it. Gokudera had seen such betrayal and loss in his life that to see him this vulnerable and willing to give himself to Yamamoto like this...he felt special, important almost.

Heat swelled through him, unbidden but unstoppable, pounding in his veins, thudding in his ears. The way Yamamoto was looking at him, Gokudera wondered whether he really was in the 'mood' or if the boy had decided to take up art classes studying the naked form. He rustled the sheets under him, moving his leg and pressing it suggestively between Yamamoto's thighs, pushing back and forth.

Whatever thoughts had captivated Yamamoto's attention was swamped by the sudden burst of pleasure that rocked through him. He felt his hips buck shamelessly against Gokudera's ministrations and almost collapsed onto the boy's chest.

Their chests now pressed together, hips grinding together in rhythmic thrusting motions; the two wondered how long they could hold up at this strange, unpredictable pace.

Gokudera wrapped his arms around the other's back, fingers greedily caressing the swordsman's strong shoulder blades, then tracing the ridged line of his spine. Yamamoto's skin was soft under his fingertips and he could clearly feel the delicious ripple of the boy's muscles underneath it as Yamamoto shifted against him, rocking ever so slightly back and forth, with less vigour now. His hand had shot out to the side, rummaging around for something, and there was the pop of a lid and then the soft sound of an object being set back down on the table.

Gokudera's face flushed at what Yamamoto had gotten out and Yamamoto sensed his lover tense under him. Both boy's were still heavily aroused, so there was no restriction in _that _department, but the Rain guardian guessed that his lover was imagining what had happened before and asked, "If you want, you can take me instead."

Gokudera shook his head. By taking Yamamoto, he would only feel like those men. He wanted to experience the full on ecstasy and pleasure that came with making love with someone, not the biting fear that had chipped away at him before. He wanted to be _loved, _not used and thrown away.

"No...I only want you..." and to prove his point physically, he plunged his hand downwards, cupping the Rain Guardian's body, a hot pulsing length in his palm and gripped it tenderly, "wipe away their scars...make me yours..."

It must have been the mood or something, because Yamamoto was fairly certain that Gokudera would _never _have said something like that anywhere else – it was...uncharacteristic but still extremely sexy.

Yamamoto felt stars burst to life in his vision, blood thrumming excitedly in his ears, begging him for more – that insane rush that came with these moments. Reluctantly, he pushed Gokudera's hand away from his pulsing length, not wanting to teeter too close to the edge when they hadn't even gotten even close to the good part and gripped his lover's thighs, hooking his legs around his hips so he could move closer.

"That's not what I'm looking for Hayato," he purred temptingly. If they going to do this, then he was going to enjoy it, so there couldn't be much harm in making the boy squirm under him and ask for what he so obviously wanted.

Gokudera's already flushed face burned a deeper, even more attractive red and Yamamoto had to bite down on hi lip to stop himself from just giving his lover what he wanted right then and there. That face of his, saying it could hardly take anymore teasing was so damn irresistible.

Gokudera wondered if he should feign annoyance, but was too aroused to make a fuss and simple swallowed his pride. "Make love to me, Takeshi..._please_..." he whispered hesitantly. For the first time, he didn't feel ashamed in his request - Maybe a little embarrassed and a bit hesitant at the request, but certainly not ashamed. It was what he _wanted _and Yamamoto seemed pretty psyched about it... and if this powerful, vibrant, charming, sensual Guardian was not ashamed to want to make love to him... why should he be? To think that even when knowing what scars his body of his bore, the ugly extent of his faults, Yamamoto wanted to still perform the upcoming act, it made his heart flutter and his mouth tug upwards in a smile.

Yamamoto fixed his amber gaze with the lush green one of his lover, a warm miasma of arousal and adoration in his eyes as they held Gokudera's. The Italian felt a deep shiver trace up his own spine, making his nerves zing. Slowly, Yamamoto's fingers slid up Gokudera's chest and gripped his shoulders, his lips brushing the other's smooth milky white skin. He paused by one pale nipple, kissing and mouthing it tenderly, licking and tasting as if the Storm Guardian was the most delectable and incredible thing in the world. He felt the Italian's body heave under him, his breath rumbling in his chest at the ministrations and ploughed on with newfound confidence.

Taking his hand away from where it cupped his lover's cheek, Yamamoto took the uncapped tube from his bedside table and squeezed a small dollop of the lube onto his thumb and index finger. Rubbing them together to warm the lubricant so it wouldn't chill Gokudera's warm body too much, he leant forwards, rocking their hard bodies together, kissing his lover passionately while his fingers teased the Storm Guardian's tight entrance.

Gokudera couldn't help the stiffening jolt in his muscles as Yamamoto's tentative fingers toyed with him between his legs. He forced his muscles to relax and sink back into that warm pool of desire, which wasn't too much of an effort.

Yamamoto was ready to stop entirely when Gokudera's hand came down and forced both of Yamamoto's slender digits inside. He was so tight and hot he nearly pulled out again, but slowly, felt his body react to the sensual ministrations. Desire was a powerful opponent that he couldn't win against. He thrust his fingers in slowly at first, widening the passage, prepping it as best he could for what was to come whilst distracting his lover with his mouth.

Leaving Gokudera to catch his hitching breath for a moment, the Rain Guardian licked the side of his lover's warm neck, just below his ear and jaw. Gokudera felt shivers run across his skin and electrocute his nerves as his lover molested the sensitive area, teeth grazing on the skin pleasurably. He moved on to kiss every other exposed part of Gokudera's enthralling body he could reach as he slid two slick fingers into his body repeatedly, feeling the passageway and entrance slicken.

"ugh-ahnghh..." Gokudera's groan became a husky growl in his chest. His tones were nowhere near the same as Yamamoto's soft silky ones, which elicited an anticipatory shudder from Gokudera when Yamamoto shifted, scissoring his fingers to stretch his passage as gently as he could. It should have been unbearable, but with the way Yamamoto did it, it only made Gokudera feel like he was bathing in a sea of bliss, his senses tipping on the edge, ready to plunge into the chasm of ecstasy.

Yamamoto's other hand went to explore the hard, defined lines of his lover's body, the warmth under his palm so reassuring, that his lover was alive, reasonably unharmed and so willing to do _this _with him. Gokudera's face was flushed with embarrassment and need to be pushed into that alluring sea of bliss, and his eyes were looking anywhere but at Yamamoto's face.

To ensure Yamamoto's electric touch didn't push him over the edge too soon, Gokudera all but whimpered, arching on the bed and shuddering in bliss. He tried to push away the incoming high that came when you orgasm and thought up a rather relevant question, the mental processes helping him keep some sort of control over his body. "Since when... did you start carrying lube?" he had hoped to sound nonchalant, but his question was asked breathlessly in surprised amusement instead.

"Ahh..." his breath escaped him in a small rush as Yamamoto confidently added a third finger. His lover was prepping him rather quickly, but it held none of the rash haste that Grigori or his men had shown – it wasn't brutal and vicious. Where that had been shame and raw torture, this was blazing passion mixed with bliss. The rushed frenzy of their need was erotic and exciting.

Gokudera looked both surprised and enraptured as Yamamoto prepped himself before slowly pressing the tip of his length against his lover's exotic body. Gokudera didn't usually allow Yamamoto to go any further than this, heck, he didn't even let him _touch _him around there so they would always deal with their pleasures and needs in a less..._connected _and intimate way, using their hands or sometimes, Yamamoto would use his mouth. So to see Gokudera become this eager and seductive on him was a first, and his body tingled and vibrate with heat as he pushed himself in further, the Storm Guardian's body quaking and convulsing in tightly reined pleasure.

Gokudera had to admit, it _did _hurt initially, but Yamamoto was going slow, pressing in a few inches, then replacing the dull pain with bittersweet desire as he claimed his lover's mouth passionately. Gokudera's body was supple and compliant under him as the Rain Guardian dipped his head to lavish heated kisses across the other's throat and collarbones before pushing back up to press their lips together in a heated, passionate kiss.

His lover's ministrations, so tender yet vigorous in their desperation made his whole body thrill with heat and he moaned, his eyes dilating with need, clutching the Rain Guardian to him and gripped his lover's toned backside. "Takeshi..." he moaned the boy's name fervently, the name a breath-stealing plea.

"I love you Hayato – too much to bear," Yamamoto confessed as he rhythmically thrust in and out as gently as he could, hoping he wasn't hurting his lover – it cut at him to think that he might be no better than those bastards. He gripped his lover's own hot shaft and pumped him thoroughly as he pulled out and thrust back in, completely captive to his lover's intense warmth and the way the planes of his strong body gave and moulded against the Storm Guardian, similar to two tectonic plates shifting over each other. His lover's body conformed to his perfectly as they undulated together atop the bedspread.

This was exactly what making love was supposed to feel like, Gokudera thought. The realisation helped brush a cool soothing hand over his scars. He'd been so afraid that what those men had done to him would have felt no different from Yamamoto but he had been _so _wrong. Where they had made him submit to their harsh, rough motions, using him like a tool, Yamamoto made him a part of a whole, two pieces of a jigsaw that fit together seamlessly. Where Yamamoto's hips rocked, so did Gokudera's grinding their bodies together in perfect synchronisation, adoring the firm, muscles of Yamamoto's arms and the way his muscles ripples under his smooth creamy skin.

It wasn't too long before Yamamoto had reached his limit and toppled over the edge. He claimed his lover's mouth hungrily, their tongues duelling playfully, rolling over each other, intoxicating the other when they drew away breathless. Yamamoto wanted nothing more than to just collapse onto the mattress in the after glow of climax, but recognised Gokudera's still prominently aroused body and thought better.

Gokudera was so close, so painfully close to climaxing that when Yamamoto pulled out of him he thought he might cry from the burning desire in his muscles, the way his hips kept thrusting anxiously, begging for release.

He was so caught up with the loss of contact from his lover that he didn't notice Yamamoto moving down to just about his still hard, throbbing flesh. He whimpered when Yamamoto's head dipped between his legs and the swordsman's incredibly hot mouth began to sensually molest his thick shaft. Yamamoto's tongue rolled over the tip of his length, licking slowly and then, nearly making Gokudera pass out, he swallowed him whole.

The Storm Guardian groaned, unable to think for a few blissful moments while Yamamoto bobbed his head between his thighs, engulfing him in moist, mind-shredding heat. The Italian's hand tangled in his lover's hair. He arched on the bed with a soft cry, back bowing gracefully, gripping Yamamoto's soft dark hair tightly as he climaxed in his lover's throat. The burst of excitement and climax was excruciating in its ability to hurtle him into a world of pleasure – he was swamped by the pleasure Yamamoto had given him and adored the swordsman for it. This was definitely not the feeling of being used like a whore – it was just him being loved, loved unconditionally and faithfully. The happiness and bliss that thudded through ever fibre of his being made his muscles ripple and his body convulse. God it felt so fricking good.

Yamamoto swallowed with natural skill, taking everything Gokudera gave him greedily, groaning against his lovers hard flesh which only made Gokudera shudder with delight. As Gokudera fell back on the sheets, the swordsman licked and sucked him clean in a tender, attentive way that made Gokudera's shivering, pleasure flushed body tremble warmly. He could already feel his previous scars fading ever so slightly under Yamamoto's touch, how he turned agony into pleasure and pain in bliss. God, he _so _did not deserve him.

Finished, Yamamoto crawled up to where Gokudera was laying contentedly, his gorgeous green eyes glazed with the after effects of climax, his skin sparkling with a thin sheen of sweat. Yamamoto yearned to do it again, to reverse their positions and have Gokudera swallow himself in Yamamoto's own tight heat, but quashed the idea before it aroused him too fully again. Gokudera looked spent and he was not about to force him into anything.

He stroked the boy's heaving chest, the thud of his heartbeat calming his zinging nerves and steadying his erratic heartbeat.

"Woah..." Gokudera huffed and closed his eyes, head tipping back and Yamamoto noticed his adam's apple shift as he swallowed and breathed out loudly. The Rain Guardian might be able to live on sex alone what with how energetic he'd just been, but he was feeling the need for a few other basic necessities of life that he'd not had in quite a while. Like say, a good, untroubled night's sleep. He just hoped Yamamoto didn't take it the wrong way and think he hadn't enjoyed it. Damn, if he really was that blind, then he would have to pin his pleasure on a billboard with a megaphone.

They lay there for a while, catching whatever breath they could, tingly from the after glow that came with making love. Yamamoto cradled Gokudera closely to him, an arm hung across his sculpted chest, feeling his heated body cool from the intense pleasure they had shared just then.

Feeling Gokudera's chest rise and fall at a steadier, slower rate, Yamamoto hunted around blindly for the quilt, draping it over their naked bodies softly in somewhat ironic modesty. Gokudera groaned and turned onto his side, snuggling up to Yamamoto, resting his head on his shoulder. His silky silver hair tickled Yamamoto's still sensitive skin and he brushed his fingers through it adoringly, kissing the crown of his head softly.

He felt strangely..._honoured _that Gokudera had given himself to the boy so fully, and he felt so much more connected to him now, felt their bond solidifying under the act they'd committed. With the Italian resting in his arms so peacefully he could have been fooled that the previous events from the evening had never happened. But they had, and still Gokudera had given himself to Yamamoto – body and soul. The trust the boy had in him made his body tingle with pride and happiness.

Yamamoto sighed and dipped his head to the side, making himself comfortable, warm shudders roiling through him as Gokudera curled his arm around his midriff possessively.

He was certain now – whatever doubts he may have conceived before drifted away out of sight. Gokudera was his only lover, the only one he had been this truthful with. They brought out both the worst and best of each other, and understood each other as well as they did themselves. Maybe they were just two halves that had managed to find each other and clicked together. To think he had thought that maybe Gokudera had been out of his reach, too gone for him to save or love again, that confusion that had bound him to its ugly thoughts released him with his overflowing adoration for the boy in his arms. To leave him now would demonstrate a level of ineptitude that bordered on imbecilic – and that was meant in a caring way. Yamamoto suppressed an inward laugh, and closed his eyes, relishing in the warm, tired glow that floated around and clung to his thoughts, warming him.

Gokudera knew he was starting to drift off as the unnatural weariness claimed him. His fingers sought Yamamoto's blindly, of their own volition, curling around his hand that rested on his lover's still bandaged chest. As consciousness faded to a dull, inviting grey, Gokudera almost inaudibly murmured a wish that he would not have voiced if he'd been more aware, vulnerable or no. "Stay with me..."

Yamamoto's eyes stung with contentment and squeezed Gokudera's hand that rested in his, chest tight with unexpected emotion, blotting out the throbbing ache of his wound. "Of course, Hayato, _always._" he murmured back, even though the other was probably beyond hearing him, already having plunged into the ocean of dreams. Shifting slightly, he curled up against the Italian, pulling him into his arms tenderly and listened to his lover's slow, unstrained breath as he slumbered. The collaboration of Gokudera's breathing and the patter of rain on the window formed a sweet, gentle lullaby that lulled Yamamoto into the welcoming clutches of sleep, glad he could finally rest without having to worry about Gokudera and his lover's nightmares while he was safe and secure in his arms.

_I love you Hayato..._Yamamoto thought blearily before his dreams seized him and took him under.

_**A/N: **__Ok, I didn't want this to be a monster of a chapter but it seems I couldn't help it X) Time for the boy's to step out of their strange little wonderland though =) Next up is some training from reborn and dear me, I was going to include the Varia fight, but I just somehow don't think it's going to work with my plotlines, so forgive me for neglecting to include it D: Still, I have great plans for dear Yamamoto and Gokudera when it comes to the future (with Byakuran), so prepare :D _

_**Note: **the next chapter may take quite a while because I'm looking for my muse which has run away from me but I _will _plough on, no matter ;D It might be a couple of weeks though until the next chapter. At least you're left on a high note though XD Hopefully it won't take me more than two weeks . *leaves to go on a manhunt for my damn muse which I will nail to the floor when I find her XD*_


	8. As Time Goes by We Change

_**A/N: **__Sorry if this chapter doesn't flow as well as it should . No matter, I hope it's not eye-rape for you all! O_o There were quite a few intentions that had to be explained and a bit of catching up that had to be done among characters. Even if you think there are a few loose ends, don't worry, they're _meant _to be there :D it wouldn't be fun if everything was explained right? =) it was difficult to find a cut off point though, and I'm not sure I did it very well, so please forgive me for that – it had to end somewhere though – otherwise it would be a hideous monster of a chapter..._

_But Yippee! My muse came back! (It had better be permanent. I am going to nail her to my desk chair and demand that she never move again D:)_

_There's quite a lot that goes on in these next few chapters, so please, do pay as much attention as you can :) It seems my love for dramatic supernatural movies got the better of me in this chapter and it'll be a 'yeah like _that _could happen' kinda thing, but hey, its AU, so don't I get a little leeway for my imagination ;)_

**Chapter Eight – As time goes by We Change**

Though it was soft and unobtrusive, the knock at their door jolted both boys awake in a tangle of flailing arms and kicking legs.

"nyugh...uhnh?" Gokudera groaned intellectually, shielding his eyes like the light coming in from their window was blazingly bright. When the knock at the door came again, he just refused to pay attention to it and flopped back down onto bed, ready to fall back to sleep next to Yamamoto. Except, it seemed Yamamoto was far more of a morning person and managed to get out of bed without toppling over from the sudden ache in his muscles. Damn, lactic acid could sure be a bitch.

Hurriedly, he tossed on a shirt and tugged on a pair of khaki cargo pants and motioned for Gokudera to try and cover himself with the sheet with at least an _attempt _at being modest. The Italian grumbled as he yanked the sheets over his hips, leaving one of his legs bare, hanging off the edge of the bed, chest bare as well. The sight was wonderful to behold, but whoever was stood on the other end of the door would certainly be losing whatever patience they might have and he opened the door.

He started at Tsuna stood there in the doorway, his round amber eyes just as surprised as Yamamoto's.

"Ah! Y-Yamamoto, I thought you were still asleep," he said it in an apologetic way and Yamamoto immediately cocked an eyebrow at him teasingly.

"I wouldn't have been actually, considering how you kept knocking," he joked friendly.

Tsuna's face flushed in embarrassment and Yamamoto felt a familiar weight stamp down on his bare foot. Jeez, Reborn _had _to lose some weight – it wasn't natural for a toddler to be this damn heavy!

"_I _was the one knocking Yamamoto," he said indignantly, "You're both wanted downstairs in less than ten minutes. Get up get," he looked at him sceptically, "properly dressed, and have the bikes ready outside pronto."

Yamamoto knew better than to complain but couldn't help indulging his curiosity, "what're we gonna do with the bikes?"

Reborn had turned away and waved a dismissive hand that Tsuna followed, "It's no concern of yours."

How helpful of Reborn. Barking orders and then vanishing – he really was something, that kid.

He shut the door softly and stretched, trying to coax his muscles into some sort of working state. He'd slept well, but he still couldn't help the stiffness that seemed to be intent of clinging to him. His chest strained under the tight bandages and he wondered how long it would take for the wound to heal. It wasn't dangerously deep, so maybe it should only be a few days.

Gokudera didn't seem to be in any mood to move and stayed curled up in bed stubbornly, feigning sleep. He wanted to put off facing the world for as long as possible and would be damned if he didn't at least _try._

Though the image was wonderful enough it could have been photographed and hung on the wall, Yamamoto tossed a pillow at his lover lightly. It smacked into his face with a '_thwump'_ sound and with the attack, Gokudera sat bolt upright immediately, gripping the plump thing in his hands, bleary eyes fiery with annoyance.

Yamamoto snickered at the dark surly mood Gokudera was in and collected up some random bits of clothing, chucking them in the Italian's direction at random. There had to be another sock around here _somewhere._

"Uh...Takeshi? What're you doin'?" Gokudera's words slurred a little. He rubbed his eyes and raked his fingers through his mussed silver hair. He had a pounding headache from all that crying last night and there was a certain _other _area of his that was claiming his attention. Damn he was sore.

Yamamoto was already half dressed and decided that he would just have to wear differently coloured socks. As long as his feet were covered by _something, _he doubted the colour meant too much.

He looked over to where Gokudera was trying oh-so-hard to get himself out of bed and shook his head at the adorable picture, "You heard Reborn. We're wanted downstairs."

Gokudera took his arm away from where it covered his eyes and cocked a brow at his lover, _what the heck for?_

_If I knew, I would have told you, _he replied with a mocking look in his arms. It made him smile to see the Italian lose his normal sharpness when still half-asleep.

"C'mon, get your butt out of bed," Yamamoto spoke with mild-annoyance. He didn't want to get another smack from the child hitman again within the hour. Gokudera groaned in a typical late teenager way but sat up indignantly, kicking his legs over the edge of the bed. He stretched but groaned at how sore he felt. His muscles were ordering him to collapse back onto the mattress, but Yamamoto's commanding gaze won out.

_What're you gonna do? Dress me yourself? _He asked teasingly to the Rain Guardian as he crossed his arms stubbornly. He'd already sat up for the swordsman – he wasn't going to do much else without some sort of feedback.

_You know I wouldn't end up dressing you, _he threw the retort back with the raise of an eyebrow, zipping up his jacket.

_Oh really? I'd like to see that._

They bantered fondly with their eyes but soon after Gokudera obliged, tiredly dressing himself in the clothes Yamamoto had strewn over the bed. Damn Yamamoto - all he had to do was frickin' _stand _there and the Italian would do exactly what he said. _Getting too soft, _he scolded himself but his tone softened as he countered the criticism. _If it's around him, I think I can deal though. _To Gokudera, that was as close as he could get to a confession.

Finally dressed, Gokudera went to stand but his thighs twitched spasmodically, his spine locking up. He whimpered and collapsed back onto the bed, gripping his lower back, just above _that _area.

_Okay. Ow, that _really_ hurt. _His body had obviously taken more of a beating that he'd realised, both from Mukuro and from his and Yamamoto's passionate love making. Yeah, somehow he thought whatever Reborn wanted to do with them was definitely going to be as fun as he thought. _Brilliant._

"Hayato?" Yamamoto asked worriedly, hurrying over to him. _Shit, he hadn't been _that _rough had he? _His legs felt weak at the thought.

Though Gokudera winced when he tried to straighten up, having to latch onto Yamamoto for support while his lower body jerked a little, he smirked, "Damn, stupid muscles. It's nothing Takeshi," he consoled his fretting lover, forcing his brow not to crease in dull pain, "Just a cramp."

Though the pain ebbed away slowly, Yamamoto stood there, clutching the quivering form of his lover. Just standing was difficult, but the pain was fading, satisfied with him acknowledging the fact that his body was in no fit shape to be taking on any form of exercise. Well, his muscles were in for a big surprise.

"You okay?" Yamamoto asked softly, not wanting his lover to seem weak. Gokudera absolutely hated looking weak in front of others, and it was rare that he let himself slip up much, even in front of Yamamoto. Events from the previous night were quite an anomaly but Yamamoto knew his lover was not about to make a habit out of it.

Gokudera reconsolidated his hypothesis by pushing away from him and arching his back, hands pressed firmly on hips. There was a very soft, but still audible crack and Gokudera sighed in relief. _There we go, all fixed._

He turned to Yamamoto and grinned cockily; locking his mouth with the Rain Guardian's while he fumbled for a belt to keep his trousers up. Funniest thing about his physique – it could handle many things such as torture but when faced with a pair of jeans, his slim hips just couldn't manage. The irony made him smile into their kiss which he wished devilishly could morph itself into something more. But then again, neither wanted to be faced with a rampant Reborn, nor face the wrath of his heavy shoes, so broke away reluctantly.

Just before walking downstairs, Yamamoto turned and asked the storm Guardian, "Hayato, are you _sure _you're alright?" He didn't want the boy to strain himself when he'd already been through enough these past few days.

Gokudera punched his right shoulder and looked up at him with a smirk, "Oh yeah. Good as can be expected, 'specially when I'm with such an unappeasable deaf twit like you around." He grinned sardonically, "I'm _fine _Takeshi, quit your whining or _you'll _be the one in pain tomorrow," he waggled his eyebrows suggestively and it took a great deal of control for Yamamoto to rein in the surging fire of desire that was beginning to pool in his groin. Damn, if Gokudera kept looking at him like that, then he might just take him right here.

Reborn called out to them though, breaking the boy's apart. They hadn't even noticed how close they had gotten – chest to chest, lips almost brushing over the other's when they spoke.

Yamamoto seemed unabashed in any way, but it was a stark contrast to Gokudera's flushed cheeks and burning ears. He pushed past Yamamoto gruffly and stamped down the stairs with his face down, throwing Tsuna his customary 'Morning Tenth' but with a twinge of embarrassment. Yamamoto could help shaking his head and smiling endearingly at his lover. _Typical Gokudera..._

* * *

Having grabbed a piece of toast each, the boys finished their mouth full, stood outside Haven, mildly surprised to see the others there. What both worried and amused them the most was seeing Hibari there as well. The prefect looked sullen though, and when Gokudera accidentally made eye contact with the older boy, he wondered if it were possible for someone to freeze under the gaze of another. Damn, how on earth did his family cope with his insatiable moods?

Reborn looked around, satisfied now that everyone was gathered and announced, "Alright, hop on the bikes, we're leaving now. Whatever you ate for breakfast is all you're going to get until we get back, so it had better have been filling."

Gokudera and Yamamoto fixed each other with looks of suffering. Honestly, Reborn could have warned them. Irritably, Gokudera's stomach growled, obviously discontent with having only been fed one piece of toast and he unhelpfully imagined a plate filled with crunchy bacon, steaming eggs and toast...his stomach complained at the image and he wiped the thought away. Oh well, it wasn't like he hadn't had to go out and do things on an empty stomach. Though, it could be argued that he at least _knew _what he was going to be doing. Reborn was being pretty tight lipped about it and Gokudera's patience only went so far.

Silently, he hooked a leg over the seat of his bike and revved the engine, looking back to the others and to Tsuna in particular, "Well, ready to get going Tenth?" The powerful engine purred eagerly beneath him, its sleek, streamlined body built to tear down high ways at a faster rate than light. Whatever image Giannini had thought would suit him was perfect to a T. The framework was smooth, easy to handle and had an almost annoyingly sensitive steering system that responded to any movement. Right now, it hummed along with his own pulsing beat, fuelled by his own flame. Nifty, the things Giannini could do – having the bikes run only on heir own flames.

Tsuna felt unable to not smile at the enthusiasm in Gokudera's eyes, and the way he didn't seem as..._lost, _as he had been the other day. Whatever Yamamoto had done had obviously worked – in fact, though it seemed strange and oddly dangerous, their personalities, no matter how different, seemed to gel with each other, and Tsuna was glad for their relationship. It must have helped Gokudera overcome whatever had gone wrong in his head the other day, and for that, he was grateful to Yamamoto.

Just about to push the bike out onto the road, Gokudera froze as an Aston Martin V12 Vantage rolled towards him, its ferocious engine purring like a prowling cat as it slowed to a stop. What baffled him all the more was who was behind the wheel.

"_Dino?_" Gokudera couldn't help his eyes running over the sleek silver body greedily. To feel the way it handled around corners, the exhilaration of hitting its maximum speed...all those amazing experiences relied on its machinery and powerful engine. To dismantle it and examine all its bearings and admire the careful workmanship nearly made him hop off and pop the bonnet.

What _didn't _surprise him was seeing Hibari sat in the passenger seat, that same indifferent yet sullen face glaring out at them, arms crossed, eyes very much blazing a fiery brown.

Gokudera felt one side of his face flinch at the blazing gaze, but instead manoeuvred his bike around the sleek growling sports car, trying not to shove Dino aside so he could hop in instead. His eyes widened at a familiar face sat tentatively in the back seat – Chrome. She fidgeted frantically, like she couldn't sit still, probably sensing Hibari's piercing gaze. Such a timid spirit, no wonder she was squirming like a fish out of water. Gokudera's thoughts on the Mist Guardian were mixed. He'd been told she was mentally and physically linked to Mukuro, and that irked him enormously, but she was her own person, and it took a great deal of will to remember that. She relied on the illusionist to survive, but then again, now that he was in Vindice prison, so did Mukuro. Her views were similar to his, but she didn't out rightly despise the mafia and wish for its demise like Mukuro did. She just went wherever he did like a good little pawn. That was all people meant to that guy, he was sure of it – all pawns in his sick twisted game whose goal was unobtainable without a startling array of sacrifices. He guessed based on his last experience with the guy, humanity wasn't a virtue the Italian had been blessed with.

He stifled a groan when he noticed that she wasn't fidgeting for the sake of fidgeting but instead to try and buckle _Lambo _into his seat.

_Fuck my life, _Gokudera groaned inwardly. Did that damn wretched excuse for a Guardian really have to come along?

He revved his engine again to blot out his slowly reddening thoughts, and smiled tightly as Tsuna rolled up alongside him.

Without any further invitation from Reborn who was sat in front of Tsuna on his motorbike, they drove off almost soundlessly; their purring engines the only sound that could be heard in the otherwise soundless suburban area.

* * *

The drive had been long, but reasonably smooth navigation wise, the opposite for how comfortable it had been, dipping in and out of potholes every thirty metres – in general, _tolerable_ at the best. The scenery had gotten dull and Gokudera's back felt stiff and resentful towards him for having made it stay in such an awkward position for so long. He rubbed it soothingly, but it didn't seem to work. Maybe a warm bath would work out the kinks in his tired muscles.

Yamamoto kicked down the stand on his bike and stood behind his lover precariously close, hands resting on his hips. His thumbs rubbed gentle, relaxing circles of warmth into his sore body. He exhaled softly, resting against his lover's back, oblivious to anyone else but Yamamoto's touch. It felt so damn good he thought he could melt. His muscles calmed their infernal jerking, painful spasmodic twitches and sank into the Rain Guardian's touch.

Aha, so that was it. Yamamoto was most definitely using some of his affinity of rain to calm his body and help soothe him. Helpful, but unnecessary – with a grateful squeeze to Yamamoto's hand, Gokudera stepped forwards, opening his eyes again to reality.

The only one that had seemed to notice had been Dino and Tsuna, both who looked a little embarrassed to be caught but still approving none the less. They knew how good the two Guardian's were for each other and how difficult it had been for them to act as naturally as they were to each other in public. No doubt Hibari had seen the small intimate moment he and Yamamoto had displayed, but showed no signs of that knowledge, focusing himself instead by standing incredibly close to Dino.

No matter how many times they insisted Hibari just come clean, they knew the prefect would rather be shot between the eyes than accept to anyone that he had an emotional attachment to the Cavallone boss. Dino had welcomed his lover's strange declarations of love – like when he would get the crap beaten out of him, both in bed and on the battle field – with welcome arms, admiring the Cloud Guardian's stubborn, unbending will. It almost outmatched his loyalty – though Hibari's intentions were thoroughly masked by his unappeasable personality, once he'd sworn an unspoken fealty towards someone whose strength he respected, he would defend them to the death – it was a strange, contradictive way of life but seemed to make sense to Hibari and no-one dared question it but Dino. It always surprised Gokudera to see him alive every time he saw him – yet another obvious indication of his favour in regard to the Cloud Guardian.

Hibari shot Gokudera a withering look like he could read his mind. Gokudera flinched; face scrunching up, his body tingling to start a fight with the irritating prefect. He never could stand the guy with his obnoxiously distant look on life, and it hadn't been so long ago that they'd gotten into a fight. One rescue didn't make everything all dandy, and Gokudera was eager to settle the score.

Yamamoto placed a restraining shoulder on his lover's shoulder, trying not to be distracted by how thin Gokudera's shirt was, and how smooth his pearly white skin was below. He gripped his shoulder and murmured lowly by his ear, "Focus Hayato."

Gokudera looked ready to retaliate and his mouth opened for a retort when Reborn silenced them with an unexpected statement.

"I'll be honest; I'm very disappointed with every one of you."

Each one of them, even Hibari, snapped their gazes towards where reborn stood on Tsuna's motorcycle.

"W-why reborn?" Tsuna stuttered anxiously, thinking that he was going to be reprimanded by his tough home tutor for his insolence.

Reborn crossed his arms and spoke in a monotone, "If I have to be monosyllabic about this, then I suppose I'll just have to cope. By now, I expected every one of you to be far more experienced and skilled than you are now. You have not, but an enormous extent, reached my expectations in any way. You all have immeasurable talent and potential, but seem unable to grasp at it on your own."

Slowly, nearly going unnoticed, Dino pulled away from Hibari and went to stand beside his former tutor.

"Because of your incompetence, I have always felt uneasy and dissatisfied whenever you are put in a dangerous situation. You are all liabilities to me and I refuse to have you dampening my reputation because of your inability to learn. Today you will either acquire the level for which I have always expected of you, or, if you are unable to," he raised his head, his gaze piercing, "You will be permanently dismissed as a member of the Vongola family. Is that understood?"

Gokudera and Yamamoto were unsure of Reborn's intentions, whether the pressure was the release whatever potential he thought could be under such strain, or if the infant really had just lost his patience with their slow progress. Either way both boys' nodded and soon, Tsuna and Ryohei followed suit. Hibari's only response was the angry narrowing of his eyes. It made the corner of Gokudera's mouth twitch up in a smirk. He could tell how much it irked the self-righteous jerk to be lumped in with the rest of them, especially Ryohei who pissed him off the most, more so than Gokudera.

Enduring this kind of tension was far outside the limits of Gokudera's small horizon of patience and he fumed, "Well duh, it's not like you just spoke to us in Latin."

His snarky response only seemed to irritate the hitman, "I could if it'll help you grasp the importance of this training exercise. This is no joking matter Gokudera Hayato. If you lose, it may not just be your title that is stripped from you. You of all people should know what it's like to come from nothing."

The blow was below-the-belt and well aimed, digging at the still healing wounds deep in Gokudera's heart. He wasn't sure if he should feel pissed off or hurt. He went with the mixture of both. It was rare that Gokudera had Reborn give him the futile urge to pound the infant senseless – usually that was Lambo's area of expertise.

Ever the honourable lover, Yamamoto stepped in, curling a protective arm around Gokudera's waist, fingers clutching at his shirt with barely contained fury, "Reborn, that's eno-"

"Oh, don't start complaining Yamamoto. You act as the protective lover later, after you've all proven yourselves worthy. Until then your words hold no value to me. Especially yours Lambo – I can feel my IQ lowering just by looking at you."

Lambo mumbled the words 'tolerate' under his breath, his breath hitching at Reborn's deadly serious tone.

Both Yamamoto and Gokudera weren't concerned by the child's bruised ego but by their own. Both of them blushed as Reborn carelessly threw 'lover' into his retort but no-one was bothered by it except for them. They'd come out about it a while back, and everyone else had moved on and accepted it easily enough – it seemed it was only the two in question that had a little adapting to do.

Being picked up and sat on Dino's shoulder from where he had stood atop Tsuna's motorbike, Dino began to walk into the forest where they'd stopped, just off a dirt track they had been driving along for the past half hour. Wherever they were now, it most definitely was nowhere near Namimori. The thick, endless horizon of trees only confirmed it.

Each of them followed with expressions of anticipation and suspicion. None of them enjoyed being led to an unknown location right up the back-end of nowhere – it made their senses rear up defensively at once. The training Reborn was talking about was either illegal or dangerous enough that he didn't want any unsuspecting citizen to be caught up in the middle of it.

About ten minutes into the trek, Chrome snuck up on them shyly, her violet eye looking up at Gokudera earnestly.

"G-Gokudera-san," She stammered, blushing at her own forwardness. With excruciating effort, he restrained himself from cocking an eyebrow at her mockingly. Her overly timid personality was so damn amusing.

"Yeah, what?" He feigned indifference but was annoyingly intrigued by what the illusionist wanted to say.

"Uhm," she stalled, "About when you were held..." She paused whilst searching for the right word but bit down on her lip, worried by what the Storm Guardian would do if she said the wrong word. His temper was startlingly volatile.

"Captive?" He supplied in a flat tone. Great, he didn't want her fricking naïve condolences...Jesus.

"Yes," she blurted with relief, "When...yeah, that. Well-"

"Get on with it would you?" He was already feeling fed up of her franticness and usually it put him at ease to see someone as innocent as her so untarnished by the mafia's black hands. But then he would remember that she was tied to Mukuro and that innocence didn't seem so solid.

"S-sorry," she fumbled, "I just wanted to explain that Mukuro-sam-"

"Is a sadist? Jeez, you sure are slow. I'm pretty sure everyone on the planet knows he's a frickin' mother f-"

He stopped as her eyes began to haze over with tears at having her precious Mukuro insulted and he shut his mouth. Dealing with tears was something he enjoyed straying from as an area of expertise. Leave that to the people that actually had some social skills, like Yamamoto.

"What I meant was," Chrome spoke determinedly, wanting to redeem her sullied master, "Is that Mukuro-sama didn't want to out rightly..." She gulped, "Torture you," she spoke in a hushed tone, pain flashing across her eye. It was a difficult word for her to say. Mukuro had thoroughly tortured throughout his entire life, and had built strong, faultless mental walls around him to protect himself from the pain. She knew he would never force such hardship onto another if it wasn't for their own good. He didn't believe in torture for the greater good – that's what the Scientists had told him whilst they opened him up whilst he was awake, prodding around until he passed out. They'd even tried to remove his bewitched eye at one point, but not even the heaviest of sedatives had any effect on him. He'd escaped that day, and had sworn the death of the mafia by his own hands. Knowing all this, Chrome had to believe that his intentions for Gokudera _had _to be in his best interests.

"He wanted to _help _you Gokudera. When I," she frowned, "read you, partially looking into your psyche to check your mental stability, I could tell that there had been a lot of damage, but..."

Gokudera wasn't particularly pleased with where this was headed, but didn't want to have to deal with an anxious, jumpy Chrome the whole day, and sighed, "Just get on with it. My mind was fucked, _got it_. What's that got to do with Mukuro's mind rape? He practically tore me apart mentally," he seethed at the man's brutality and felt Yamamoto's strong protective gaze on the back of his head. His expression was blank, but his eyes were scorching in their intensity. Looked like Mukuro had lost another fan, oh dear how sad.

"Listen to me!" She pleaded in an annoying whiney voice that made his skin shiver and crawl. She was just so _girly. _

"Fine, fine ok? I'm _listening," _He consoled impatiently but added, "Just keep your voice down alright? I don't need the entire country knowing that I had a breakdown."

Chrome nodded in earnest and continued in a low tone, "Mukuro-sama was aware of your mental instability, even before I was and wanted to release the locked up memories before they broke through." She swallowed, "It was like looking at an earthquake site Gokudera. Everything was strewn _everywhere. _Nothing was where it was supposed to be. I'm amazed you could even walk. But I know why," she looked admirably at Yamamoto before she followed through, "but that's not my point. You're memories were sealed away poorly Gokudera-san. With the stress you were under, had you recalled them maybe as much as a day later, you would have lost your sanity. I don't mean that with any sort of hyperbole. It scared me, seeing into your consciousness to see that much carnage. I felt so worthless. Mukuro-sama had noticed and had tried so hard to get you to remember in a weakened state so that you're body wouldn't have rejected the memories but you had one memory...that one memory that you just didn't seem to allow anyone to see..."

Gokudera's thoughts wandered back to that blacked out, white paned window and the large, intimidating oak door with its rusting chains. He couldn't remember why it had crumbled – had it been his resolve? It must have, everything else he had dared to try when he was younger had been of no use. Maybe it was true though, maybe because of his weakened physical state, Gokudera had known he had nothing to lose – no pride to trample on, or ego to protect. He'd been nothing but a skittering empty shell with half a past. His courage had come from knowing he had nothing. And yet he'd emerged from nothing with a handful of a past he hadn't ever wanted. Wow, life really bit you in the ass didn't it – right when you don't expect it. He didn't regret it though, remembering everything he did. It had made him feel whole and strangely more at peace – able to move on fully, though the scars would never fully heal, it would idealistic to think that they would waft away so easily. They may fade, as would those awful nightmares, but would remain. It would difficult not to do a double take on any blonde now, to freeze when he noticed someone with piercing blue eyes.

He cleared his throat, the gesture banishing his sombre thoughts, "Well, I'll be honest, I'm pretty impressed. The guy _does _still have some humanity left in him," he added mockingly, "No matter how lewd and distorted."

Chrome's brow puckered, ready to defend her master again, but was distracted by Tsuna who had called out to her from ahead. She bowed slightly while on the move and trotted over to the Vongola successor, bowing so sharply she stumbled. Tsuna caught her in tumbling flail of arms and just managed to keep her upright. Both blushed a maddening red and turned forwards, back rod straight as they walked on like nothing had happened. The comical scene made the Italian snicker in mild amusement and Yamamoto swooped in to capture his lightened mood, pressing his lips against his lover's smooth cheek. Gokudera called out angrily and swatted the dark-haired teen away. Yamamoto made a shocked face and put his hand on his heart in feigned hurt before they both turned forwards, hiding their smiles as best they could.

Walking close together, they moved forwards, both watching Ryohei as he strode forwards with his head tilted upwards, watching the sky that managed to filter through the thick foliage. It was quite a scene – he managed to step over every stray branch and rock without stumbling or faltering in any way. His instincts were amazingly acute and he shot them a toothy grin when he felt their curious gazes on him. Gokudera returned it with a frown mixed with a mocking smirk and Yamamoto a genuine friendly smile.

They trudged along for a good half hour, and by then Gokudera's patience had all but fizzled out to dust, especially when Lambo kept on asking for a piggy back. His nature was explosive in almost a literal term, but right now he thought he was about to erupt with irritating. He'd gotten into three fights already with the five year old Bovino child and was in no mood for another. Lambo had given up on Gokudera though, especially when he had earnt himself a swift kick to the butt when he'd begun to sing 'Mary had a little lamb' atrociously off key and had scarpered off to Tsuna who had unwillingly hitched the child onto his back. If only Gokudera could have that kind of patience, maybe less natural disasters would happen. He was sure his violent mood swings were a trigger for mass Tsunami's and Earthquakes. He _was _the Storm guardian, so such phenomenon's' went under that category. It certainly would explain their unpredictability.

He stuck right by Yamamoto, close enough that their shoulders brushed continually until Yamamoto gave up and wringed his arm aroun his lover's. Hibari looked ready to pounce on Dino and pound the lights out of him for leading him into unfamiliar territory, but hung back respectfully, seething silently. That kind of restraint was quite spectacular in Gokudera's opinion and he refused to be bested by the uptight stoic prefect and feigned indifference, though his stomach was putting up quite a fight. It churned and gurgled pointedly at him and he felt his mouth watering as he imagined what there had been in the fridge that morning, what he could have cooked up for lunch...he cut off his thoughts before he bit into someone, mistaking them for a hot dog. No need to stir up the tense atmosphere with some slap-stick humour.

Yamamoto knocked his shoulder lightly against his lover, dipping his head a little so he brushed his lips against his rustling silver locks. Being this close to him and only being able to link arms was too much for him and he decided to spoil himself and indulge in the temptation, even if it was just a peck.

Without any kind of notice, Dino froze and turned on the spot to face them all. They'd just broken through the foliage into a large circular clearing that seemed to be filled with silence – a vacuum compared to the noises of the forest around them. Tsuna was the first one to stop, but was jostled by an unawares Ryohei that had been admiring the scenery to pass time. Hibari froze too, his dark moody eyes locking with Dino's. The Cavallone boss made a small quirk of a smile before he set Reborn down, who took the lead.

"I don't want to go into the nitty-gritty details of why I've brought you all out here. I'll keep it short. What you're about to do is incredibly difficult, but expected of you as Vongola Guardian's. If anyone outside of the mafia, or even outside of the Vongola family were to see this, then we would be put in a great deal of trouble, which would be an inconvenience for me."

He pointed up and Dino, "Dino Cavallone has accompanied me because he thus far is the only student I have had which has been able to master this technique."

Reborn wasn't surprised at the blank, tired looks his subordinates gave him and sighed, "Dino, kindly demonstrate what I'm talking about."

"Of course Reborn," he replied curtly, smiling smugly at Hibari's intently curious expression. He was irritated that his own tutor had kept a technique from him. He'd thought the Cavallone boss had shown him every technique he had mastered, but it seemed there was still one skill that light was yet to be shone on.

Closing his eyes, blotting out the world so all he could hear was the thrumming of his own pulse in his ears and the welcomed heat of the sun's rays, Dino took a breath, imagining a burning, glowing flame, purifying it with his resolve. It dazzled his senses as he imagined it and let the sensation spiral through his nerves, spreading through his muscles.

_Come alive, _he thought softly and let the overwhelming sensation of his flame engulf him. His skin felt incredibly hot, _blistering _under his scorching blaze, but it passed quickly, his body accepting the flame.

He opened his eyes to the shocked gasps that attacked his ears and smiled bashfully. He decided he could indulge himself and let himself feel proud. It was difficult to be able to do this, an ability only a few mafia members knew how to conjure without spontaneously combusting in a gulf of flames. The balance of your body's control and the free will of your own flame was precarious that was backed by your own resolve. Your resolve was the foundation. Without it, the balance would tip and if it went in the wrong direction, your existence would go up in flames. An Un-extinguishable flame of your own affinity – surely there was no worse way to die than to be engulfed by your own element. To have let it consume you enough that it had overcome your own control. Any flame was unpredictable, but in Gokudera's case, to refine his skills to both conjure and control _all _of the flames like a Storm Guardian should, surely that was too much to ask of such a young boy with such potential. If Gokudera were to miscalculate _anything, _the Cavallone boss shivered at the thought, but didn't dwell. He had to take his own advice and focus. It wouldn't look good at all if he slipped up now.

Gokudera was dumbstruck. Dino's body had erupted in flames, but they hadn't touched his clothes of his skin – hadn't burnt him away like he had thought. They didn't have the properties of an actual flame though – by that he meant the whole combustion reaction and all that scientific mojo. There'd been no fuel or spark, so nothing to start a flame. Instead, they had seemed to pulsate from his skin and curl around him. He'd become a living torch to a flame that wasn't a flame. It was brighter and jerky, a cross between lightning and fire moulded together. The inner flame was a startling blue crossed with gold and it took Gokudera a moment to realise it was Dino's element of light that he must possess from being the Sky bearer which had sparked the flame. It was his dying will encasing his entire body. Miraculous – an absolute scientific phenomenon. What the Italian would have given to have his glasses and take down studies.

He teasingly touched the underside of Yamamoto's jaw, indicating to the Rain Guardian that his mouth had dropped into China. Bashfully, Yamamoto snapped his mouth shut with a light flush creeping up his neck. It was so easy to embarrass the easy going boy sometimes. Gokudera fixed him with a wry grin that disappeared at Reborn's clipped tone.

"All of you get in line, Tsuna in the middle."

They all obliged, but their expressions paled when they heard Reborn's next words, "Listen to Dino and make sure you pay attention," he looked at Lambo coolly, "You especially you stupid Cow. Though I do not acknowledge you, I might if you are able to overcome this hurdle."

Lambo glowed with anticipation all but screaming 'oh yeah, I'm so gonna ace this'!

Gokudera's eyes rolled at the child's enthusiasm but he was a little hyped as well. Yamamoto seemed eager, and Ryohei was practically jumping from foot to the foot with his extreme excitement. Chrome was anxious but that was no surprise, and Tsuna looked pained. He seemed to be under no illusion that whatever Dino was doing, would _not _be as easy as a bird falling from a nest and noticing it could fly if it tried really, _really _hard. Hibari seemed intrigued and almost stunned by seeing his 'lover but not lover' on fire and Gokudera wondered if that had been a spark of dark desire flashing through those brown eyes. Only Hibari could find something like a human torch a turn on. No pun intended.

Reborn looked up to his student and smirked, sensing the direction of his thoughts, "Tsuna has the right attitude, unlike the rest of you enthusiastic fools. Be wary, all of you. You get this technique wrong, and I don't mean _very _wrong, but _slightly _wrong," he looked at each and every one of them, "Just the slightest loss of concentration, or the faltering of your resolve will not just lead you to injury but to irreparable brain damage and near immediate death. This is no joke Guardian's. I did not ask this of you earlier because of these risks. Even now, I can calculate that there's only a forty-three percent chance that you will be successful," he cocked an eyebrow at Lambo, "twelve percent for you Lambo," His tone was snarky.

It seemed even the infant couldn't help jousting at the Bovino child whenever he could, "I'm tired of having to wait for you to mature and develop your skills, and so this will come first. This training will not be in vain though, in any way. Master this and you will become the Kings and Queen's of the Vongola family, ultimate Guardian's to Tsuna, Vongola _Decimo._" He stopped and looked to Dino who stood there with a stoic expression, obviously trying his hardest to stay focused, "they're all yours Dino."

Dino looked up, his eyes burning in a similar way to Tsuna's when in hyper-dying-will mode. He smiled at his home tutor but his expression hardened as he turned it back to the students in front of them. It wasn't just their natural talent that Reborn was relying on. Dino was just as key a component in this exercise as the Guardian's aptitude. One wrong instruction won't just burn them like Reborn had warned – it would kill them. The process of adaptation would be long and gruelling, but Reborn was prepared for the worst of outcomes. He had faith in every one of the Guardian's. He didn't doubt their resolve and strength, no matter how unique. Each of them had something to live for, a purpose, and with that, he had faith that they would master this dangerous skill. It would be difficult and fatal is misused but if the hitman had faith in anything, then it would have to be these Guardian's. None of the other Vongola Guardian's from Vongola Secondo would be able to fully master this power but maybe, just _maybe, _with the blood of their ancestors flowing in their veins, these teenagers just might. It was a gamble, but one the infant was willing to make.

"_Allora va bene_. Alright then," he added in Japanese, knowing only a few of the Guardian's understand the Italian, "I'll start with the basics."


	9. Faith in One Another

_**A/N: **__Now, I'm not sure if any of the mafia families even have emblems or such, so I'm going by the fact that they _do. _(Hopefully Amano didn't subtly add them in D: I don't think my idea of the Vongola emblem is the same as hers...) Anyway, I've made it so that Vongola has the symbol of the Phoenix. Somehow, after reading later manga chapters (the Shimon arc for anyone who's keeping up with it :D) it seemed perfect for them. I won't disclose the Grigori family emblem yet though =3 that's for later - *oh dear, was that a spoiler? O_O* Oh, I've also altered a little of the storyline. Remember when Yamamoto was going to jump off the roof in one of the earlier chapters? Well, I've sort have put my own little stamp on it but saying that it wasn't Tsuna that stopped Yamamoto, but in fact Gokudera =) It IS AU, so I think, like my 'flame thing' going on, I've got a little lee way, right? ;)_

**Chapter Nine – Faith in one Another**

"_I won't suffer, be broken, get tired, or wasted  
Surrender to nothing, or give up what I  
Started and stopped it, from end to beginning  
A new day is coming, and I am finally free"  
__**-**_**Attack – 30 Seconds to Mars**

Dino's instructions began pretty simply, but as he continued his explanation, everyone's brows began to knit together, and even Hibari's left eye was twitching with the onslaught of information.

"...physics behind this technique are as follows and you need to pay attention to this in order to ensure you have the correct balance of both your resolve and physical strength. Allow your flame to overcome your own control and it will engulf you. Your nerves won't be able to withstand the strain and your brain will short circuit. In basic terms, you'll become brain dead within the space of twelve seconds at best. Even if you are able to properly balance the two, the strength of your flame is extremely important." He looked around to make sure his students were paying the proper attention to his words before continuing, "You have to be able to manipulate and bend your flames to your own will. It's difficult though, even without the initial struggle to even get your flame going. Whilst your body is surrounded by the flames, in your mind, you have to imagine each particle and bend it to your own will. You have to focus like you would a microscope and the strain it has on your body is incredible. This technique does not last forever, in fact, the best you'll get out of this is about half and hour. Any more and your muscles will deteriorate, your blood will become like acid and you'll go into cardiac arrest."

_Peachy, _Gokudera thought sarcastically. So this skill wasn't just tricky, but fricking suicidal...

Dino had been blathering on for a good eight minutes, and the explanations were long winded and brimming with statistics and scientific jargon no-one really understood. Compromised electrical impulses travelling to the central nervous system when under the stress of the hot flames, the near inhuman amount of patience and self-control, not to mention stamina, that your body had to cope with in order for the technique to work; the counter-productive way your body lashed out at the way your own affinity took a hold. Then of course, there was the consoling factor that if there wasn't some perfect yin and yang balance between the two, then your brains would turn to over-cooked spaghetti - How absolutely charming.

"Now, I've explained it all to you as clearly as I can. Now it's your turn. This can only be achieved fully step by step, so for now, all I'll ask is that you call to your flame and light your rings." Dino's tone demanded the utmost obedience and Lambo looked almost frightened by his curt tone. Chrome soothed him as gently as she could, muttering about how it was a game, but one that the child had to be very, very careful about.

Dino felt an uncustomary pang of guilt in his chest. He didn't want to put these kids through such a trial – not yet. Most of them were barely even fifteen, and the slightest miscalculation in this technique could snuff out their lives permanently. It was too great a risk, too uncharitable a gamble, but Reborn was who had called the shots, so all Dino could do was explain the rules of the game, roll the dice and hope his students had enough sense and talent to beat the game.

The analogy was strange, but somehow fitting for the situation – more like suicide chess. You had to strip yourself away, your thoughts, your reasoning and your pride in the beginning. A little like throwing yourself in at the deep end, except it had to be a calculated dive – otherwise you would hit the rocks and be swept away by the current.

They stood in line, just how they'd been instructed, but now all were jumping on the spot – figuratively. None of the Guardian's could stop their nerves from getting to them and all just tried to cope as best they could. Lambo looked around and up at the sky in a constant, cyclical pattern with his wide dark green eyes. Ryohei clenched and unclenched his fists religiously whilst Tsuna gnawed on his lower lip. Yamamoto shifted from foot to foot, eyes down, brows knit together in concentration. To Gokudera's amusement, the only indication of Hibari's stress was that twitch in his eye.

Chrome was the calmest of them all, and stood beside Yamamoto. Her violet gaze was focused and sincere in its intensity as she drank in every morsel of information Dino told them. Yamamoto felt a little in awe of her spectacular control. He felt like a jumping bean in an empty shell – he was ricocheting off everything. Every gust of wind or the scrunch of dirt grinding under his foot made him twitch. He felt under an immense crushing pressure that he wasn't sure he could handle.

To be shot at and told he had a day to decide between the blade and baseball seemed so...trivial and like child's play compared to this trial. Mess up on this and it wasn't your sword you had to forfeit, but your life.

Dino frowned, "I gave you an instruction." His tone feigned impatience. In truth, they could take as long as they liked. He didn't want to hurry them along in any way. The longer it took the better. He didn't want to focus on the terrifying task before him, but he had to. He was an adult, and now a teacher. He couldn't lose his cool now when these kids were depending on him. He held their lives in his hands, and he would be damned if he didn't protect them.

Slowly, each of the Guardian's rings burst into life. It took some tough coaxing from Gokudera to awaken Lambo's flame, but when it came to life, it was a startling sight. Such power that could come from such an untainted, naïve soul was astounding. The purity of his thunder flame was remarkable. It was a blaze to be commended, but then, all of the Guardian's had resolutions to be proud of. It was theirs alone, their reason to fight, no-on else's. It was rare to find someone who fought for the exact same goal as another. Even if you did, the degree of that resolve would vary also – this made synchronisation and the bridging of powers difficult, especially within Mafia Families. Once, it had been simple. Vongola Primo had initiated it between his Storm and Rain Guardian, along with the Cloud and Mist Guardian. It hadn't been as successful as he had intended, but their flames had managed to stabilise each other in some way, thus allowing their affinities to bridge together. It had been a force to be reckoned with, one with enough strength behind it allow them to become to most renowned of mafia families.

"Right then," Dino appraised them for their strong flames that flickered nonchalantly from their rings, "considering you all know how focus on _that _flame, search for its source. Uncover it and focus on that flame. If you can, try to control it. When you wake up, you should look a little like me, but less stable. That doesn't matter; just focus on balancing the flame with your tolerance level. This isn't a matter of pushing yourself that extra mile. Do that and you will _die. _Go as far as you can, but no further. _Preterito_?" The Italian Guardian's nodded curtly, even those who weren't bi-lingual understood the tone and dipped their heads in recognition. He smiled wryly as Hibari just conveyed his understanding through his intense gaze. That boy was _impossible. _

Satisfied with the focused and determined gazes of his students, Dino folded his arms and ordered, "Be quick and be thorough. Begin."

Gokudera shut his eyes and retracted inwards – a skill he'd learnt as a child. Mental walls were perfect to hide yourself behind, and most considered what he was doing exactly that. Instead, all he doing was curling inwards, directing his focus inwards. Everything suddenly was centred on his own being. He looked, like he would around a cross road, wondering which street to take. If he were his own flame, where should it be? Was it all around him? Or did it make up his very essence or had he locked it away? If he had, where would he have put it? How would he have disguised it? Such things should be known to yourself but Gokudera felt like he was stumbling around in the dark. He had no initiative with this and with an exasperated, made his body physically relax and mentally began to wander aimlessly. He was depending rather heavily on the saying 'you find the best things when you're lost'. Well, all he had to do was get lost in his own sub consciousness then. Whatever Dino wanted him to do, he just had to close his eyes and spin around on the spot and walk in a random direction. It was how he usually did these inner-self things. He just wandered with no goal. It was surprisingly effective too.

His surroundings blotted out to a faint insignificant buzz, his intentions directed inwards. Reality began to filter away like quicksand, and the foundations he stood on began to crumble. He was going too deep, delving too far. His legs crumpled under him and there was the fleeting sensation of weightlessness before he hit the ground.

He wanted to pull away from himself, to unclench this fist he had made in his mind, locking himself in. He was the cross-roads again, but was lost. He didn't know which direction would take him back. His body felt distant, almost so much not-his own as an outer body experience. If he strained though, he could hear Reborn speaking. He was close, he must have been otherwise he wouldn't have been able to hear him so clearly.

"I'm genuinely surprised. I would have thought Tsuna would be the last to fall, or maybe Hibari, but it seems it was Gokudera here."

The child's presence was dominating, stronger than a dense overcast sky that blotted out the sun. His words mulled together as he continued to speak to someone and it wasn't long before he felt dragged into his own maelstrom, spiralling right into his core. His vision doubled, fuzzed and blurred, colours varying in shades of ice, smoke and blackened ash.

He stumbled, faltered, fell over himself countless times while he spiralled around his own mind. He was so confused, so lost and so damn dizzy he thought he would hurl at any given moment.

Finally, he felt himself hit something. No, he hadn't _hit _something – it was just that the spinning had stopped. It was strange; he must be in that non-linear realm again, like when Yamamoto had gotten into his dreams. It was a strange sensation – very sensual. He smelt nothing, but it was everything at the same time. But not everything, but everything that was _him – _The overwhelming smell of cigarettes, mints, soap and dynamite crossed with leather surrounded him like a vice. It enclosed him in a familiar embrace, its strange colours, like how he viewed this world, a swirl of greys, whites, gold's and blue's.

He felt isolated and scared in this world of his. Everything was unfamiliar and so dark and directionless that he wanted to just curl into a ball and cry. This was his inner self? Jesus...without Yamamoto's presence it just seemed like a bleak desolate wasteland. He was cold, tired and so damn weak he wanted to just rot away with the shame of it. He would be no use to the Tenth, not like how he was now.

But...He threw his head up in startled astonishment. He was _searching _for something, but had immediately portrayed the goal as something tangible. Damn, he really could be such a blockhead. Gokudera hurriedly rewound Dino's words and replayed them in his head.

"_...search for its source. Uncover it and focus on that flame."_

With a growl, Gokudera overcame the almost unbearable urge to smack himself silly. He was stupid, so damn _stupid. _Yes, you could see your own dying-will flame, but that was in the physical word. When actually looking for the source of it, he had immediately assumed it would have asserted some sort of metaphysical form. But it wasn't a blazing flame deep within him. It was his resolve.

He resisted the urge to kick himself for his ignorance. He was searching for his _resolve. _God, could he get any denser? He was probably lowering the planet's IQ with his own belligerence and inability to read between the lines.

He looked to the softly curling colours weaving themselves around his body. They didn't seem as intrusive now – less suffocating. He let them wrap around him, their cool water-like texture washing over him in soft ways. The smoke would run across the ice, the white tendrils twining around themselves with sudden sparks of red. They calmed him, much like Yamamoto's flame did, and he shut his eyes to the blinding darkness of his consciousness. He was searching any further. In fact, he hadn't even needed to look any further than his own thoughts. How he managed to overkill things so easily was a skill he really wished he didn't posses - always had to over-think and over-calculate situations didn't he?

Gokudera banished his thoughts. He didn't have time to brood over his flaws and concentrated as much as he could, struggling to focus himself. It was so difficult, so damn frigging hard to concentrate on something with all that _noise._

Noise? What?

He broke his eyes open, or just let his own strange little world back in again. In this realm he didn't know exactly what kind of form he had taken, but it made no difference. He could hear something, something that was being incredibly insistent that he listen to it.

He looked around and was blind-sided by a wave of images. Just like before when Yamamoto had seen his past, the images flew across his field of vision like a broken movie. The image jumped and glitched in places, in a way that no doubt meant that these were his memories. Though he had anticipated a cruel repeat of what had happened before, he was instead looking at a scene of himself, the tenth and Yamamoto walking to school. It suddenly jumped to a scene from when they all had been training with Reborn – then forwarding to when they'd been stranded on that island for three days. His face heated at the sight of seeing his mouth being claimed by Yamamoto's on the last night of their time on the island. The images blurred, morphing into their fight with Xanxus, then to when Gokudera had been rescued from Mukuro...what did any of this mean? Though he felt rather relaxed by having his whole life replayed before his eyes, it was distracting and an inconvenience.

He had no idea if there was a time limit, and he meant a _fatal _limit to how much time you could spend suspended in the clutches of your consciousness and tried to push back the images. As if they had a life of their own, they reared and the colours flared, sound growing louder from the flitting images.

Their words were slurred and choppy, but whatever his past self and the other Guardian's were saying seemed a cross between sincere, joking, angry and pleased. It was strange, but then he realised, just like the sporadic film before him, the scripts had been merged together as well.

With another swift mental kick, Gokudera managed not to cry out as he understood. It seemed that his consciousness was good for something after all. However strange, these images were trying incredibly hard to show him where his resolve had come from. He had spoken it aloud many times, but here, in the safe seclusion of his own little world, he could indulge himself. Yes, when he said his pride and goal to be of good use towards Tsuna was true, he in fact had no idea what his resolve was. It had always just been _there. _All he'd ever done was focus on trying to make the flame. He hadn't thought about where the flame had _come from._

But now, whilst he stood leaning forwards, eyes narrowed in pin point accurate concentration, he tried to decipher his riddled thoughts. Looked like even his consciousness wasn't willing to give him a break and make it easy for him.

* * *

Dino had done one more patrol across a two hundred metre radius of the surrounding foliage; ensuring no-one had followed them or indeed _found _them. With the state the Guardian's were in now, if they were to be ambushed by some random Mafia family, it wouldn't end well.

The Cavallone boss had long ago shed his flame, thus extinguishing his blazing gold-blue aura. It had taken quite a lot out of him, and it would take a hefty amount of rest to bring his strength back.

Reborn weaved in and out of narrow paths between each Guardian's strewn body, his stride refusing to falter or even slow when Dino returned. They had left them where they'd fallen, no daring move them in case it affected their mental state.

"How long has it been?" Dino asked, not wanting to think about it. None of the Guardian's were showing any signs of distress, but none were waking up either. He feared that if they stayed asleep for too long, they'd run the risk of sinking into a coma.

Reborn responded flatly, "Fifty-four minutes. They have another six minutes to wake up until the deadline is reached. If they breach the one hour rule, their brains will begin to shut down. They'll forget how to breathe and their hearts will cease to beat. I'm glad you told them about this though – that should hurry them up."

_Fuck! _Dino thought in despair. That one thing – that one tiny, so easily spoken warning that had been so crassly forgotten! He kicked, clawed and smacked himself internally but hunched his shoulders shamefully at his ex-tutor.

Reborn sensed his student's change in mood and in response, his aura prickled, "Dino...you _did _tell them they had a time limit didn't you?"

Dino shifted from foot to foot, accepting the sharp kick Reborn gave him. Anyone else and he would never have let it go unchallenged, but he deserved the abuse unconditionally. He landed on his but and flinched, expecting another kick to the head. Reborn just stood on his chest though, glowering down at him furiously.

"My _God, _you're no better than Tsuna sometimes Dino. Have I taught you nothing? Has everything I've done accounted to this?" His voice rose angrily and he stamped his foot down on his chest painfully for emphasis. He really wanted to kick the snot out of the Cavallone boss right then, or just break _something. _He couldn't believe the man had been so stupid as to forget to tell them the most important factor! Did he _want _them to die?

Dino didn't ask for forgiveness, knowing he deserved none, but refused to sink into a pit of self-misery. It wouldn't help him at all and he knew better than to indulge in the fruitless emotion.

There was a sharp cry from beside him and he sat upright sharply, Reborn landing lightly in front of him.

Lambo had begun to cough up blood. His small fragile chest heaved while he choked on his own blood. Dino knelt by the child carefully, his worst fears solidifying.

"He's rejecting his own flame..." He murmured. It couldn't be true. Lambo was the legitimate successor of the Thunder Ring. He just _couldn't _reject it. It was practically hotwired into his DNA for god's sake!

Reborn sniffed dismissively, "Either he hasn't been exposed to enough electricity to accept the full extent of his flame, or he's putting on a show. We'll know which in," he began to count down, turning away to pace again, "_five,_" one finger down, "_four,_" another, _"three, two..." _he paused then dropped the last one, "_one._"

Lambo's eyes snapped open and he gasped, his chest rising as he gulped in air as though he'd been submerged under water for an hour instead of in a deep sleep.

Dino felt the vice that had entwined itself around his chest loosened and he took a deep breath as he placed his palm gently atop the Bovino's forehead. He felt warm, maybe even a little flushed, but the child's eyes fluttered open after a moment and the Cavallone boss felt his heart swell in relief. Though the Bovino child was a nuisance at the best of times, he didn't want the kid to freaking _die._

Reborn just sighed but it was broken off when he noticed the strange aura encircling the child.

Lime green sparking flames covered the five year old, the flames most potent around his horns.

"He's done it..." Dino murmured incredulously. He had never _ever _expected the five year-old to be the first of the Guardian's to wake up. He had to give the kid more credit.

"He's not the only one," Reborn noticed and his intrigued tone made blonde Italian look up and then in the direction Reborn was looking in. He noticed quite a few of the Guardian's were growing restless. Both Ryohei and Hibari seemed to be stirring. Ryohei's arms were twitching, and ever so slightly, Hibari's breath was hitching as his body began to buckle under the strain. Lambo had coughed up blood for heaven's sake. God knew what would happen to these boys. With the heightened endorphins coursing through their body's and not to mention the way they were all still teenagers, so their own biological chemistry was almost always in flux...shit, he and Reborn really _hadn't _thought this through. If the Guardian's slip up with their own handling of the technique, then whether they lived or not would be down to whether their cells manage not to fry under the strain. Their own pain threshold might be the only thing keeping them alive.

"Chrome..." Dino's tone was guilt stricken. She of all people didn't have to tolerate such pain, but Reborn shot his ex-student a knowing but sharp look. The girl writhed in obvious pain, her nails clawing into her arm to help stem the pain flaring in her body. Within moments, her eyes

"They all have to wake up Dino. Don't pine over them like kicked puppies put out to sleep in the rain. The pain will only subside once they wake up."

_Oh, of course. Glad to know that they only have to frickin' wake up. Like that's not hard._

There wasn't any sarcasm in his thoughts either. Dino knew all too well how difficult it was to find consciousness again. If you thought wrongly about where you found the source of your flame, or if it was deeper within that you had thought, reaching the surface again was harder than having to drive with your eyes closed. It was like when pushed under a wave. The water's so dark and thick and suffocating your more focused on trying to breathe that when you look for the surface, it's a blurred mess of swirling greys and blues. You aren't able to distinguish which way is up and down. You could drown in your own consciousness, and it was an awful sight to behold if on the visual end. It could be an entirely silent death or an enormous combustion of your internal organs. It all depended on the strength of your own resolve. Both extremes said s thousand words for the strength behind your resolution, but none were particularly attractive alternatives. Now, waking up _unharmed, _that sounded far more affluent choice.

The illusionist coughed twice, two hefty chest whoops, but thankfully there wasn't any blood in the heaves. Instead, she took another deep breath and with a steadying exhale, she opened her eyes.

_Miraculous, _Dino thought in awe at the sight. The petit Italian girl had managed to sit up without any difficulty whatsoever, no doubt forcing herself to believe that there wasn't any pain through her own illusions and his breath froze when he locked his gaze with hers.

Her eyes actually had a violet _glow _to them. The colour seemed to pulsate in the same way a sun would its own lights rays with outstanding power in its intensity. Not even Reborn had thought one of them would achieve such a high level of expertise in such a short amount of time. It was humanly impossible. But then...maybe it wasn't just Chrome's strength there right now. She's was permanently imprinted with Mukuro. There was no doubt some sort of two-way connection between them– each leant strength to the other, but Mukuro mostly leant her knowledge. Had he lent her the knowledge to control her flame at such a skilled level? Did Mukuro even _know _of the technique? It was impossible...but then again, he must definitely was the descendant of the first Mist Guardian, so it would only be natural.

Dino groaned audibly as Reborn kicked him in the head, already frustrated by his ex-students notorious inner monologue. He didn't even have to look at the young man to know he was mulling over something that would certainly be exhaustingly boring and right off topic. That was almost always the case, but this time, he wanted the Cavallone to focus only. If Chrome was showing this degree of power, then telepathy wasn't far off and there was countless things he did _not _want her to hear from the rambling muddle of a mind like Dino's. The idiot didn't even remember when his own local supermarket opened. If Chrome were to stumble across anything of any degree of secrecy, no doubt it would be splattered with holes and confusing knots of information that his no-doubt brainless student had wound into it. The Cavallone boss could be unbearably _stupid _at times, especially when remembering things that were even mildly difficult.

Dino didn't complain at Reborn's abuse though, but he did flinch a little when Chrome began to walk towards them, hands reaching out to take Lambo. His flame was weakening already, the boy's grasp slipping quickly. It was to be expected – he was barely five, so to have such control even at his age was beyond spectacular. At least Lambo was at an age where pride hadn't dug its roots in too deep. For Guardian's such as Yamamoto, Gokudera and especially Hibari, such a thing would their biggest demon. With a technique like this, you really had to understand where your boundaries were and not step over them. Pride was the exact monster that ushered you forwards, but then again, common sense just pushed you back. Dino hoped to God common sense would win out.

Gently, Chrome nursed Lambo gently in her arms, his loudening whimpers softening as she soothed him, rocking the boy like an infant in her make-shift cradle. She looked up to Dino and spoke quietly, "How long do the others have?"

Dino took a quick glance at his watch and couldn't help the way his stomach flipped and churned disgustedly, "Four minutes...maybe less."

Chrome looked distressedly between Reborn, Dino and the rest of her fellow Guardian's, chewing on her lower lip.

Her face was pinched and her flame dulled a little as she whispered, "They might not survive Dino-san."

Dino was about to apologise, to ask if she might be able to use her illusionist affinity to enter their minds, but knew better than that. An intrusion of that degree could be worse than disastrous. Even if the mind was brought back to reality, who knew how many screws had been loosened. It was too dangerous, both for Chrome and the person in question. It was too much to ask.

Reborn had his back to his ex-student, not in dismissal, but in self-loathing. He hadn't calculated this accurately at all. He'd misjudged their capabilities and because of his ignorance, might suffer the loss of four well deserving Guardian's, needles to mention the death of the tenth Vongola boss. He might as well paint a target on his back now, save time for those who were surely going to come after him.

_Come on, _He urged silently, his gaze intense, _you stupid, stubborn, stuck-up kids, come on!_

* * *

Gokudera stretched his hand out tentatively, anxious as to whether he really wanted to see this or not.

He was stood before a very dark, depressing memory, one which he often looked over when thinking of his time in Japan. It was by no means as dark as what he'd experienced in Italy, but no means any less distressing.

The image before him blinked and shuddered like it was on too old a film-reel and with a gulp, he pushed himself in.

He was plunged into his make-shift world, where it looked like it was flowing in real-time, but somewhere, he had the knowledge that it was a scene that passed at the same speed as thought. It was instantaneous, but a recollection that held all of its information in one, chronological, easy to understand piece. Just like before, it was an exact replica of when you think about a memory – its immediate.

_He was in a dark, small apartment, slumped against his kitchen wall, a dinner knife clenched in his hand, the other arm balanced on his bent leg. His face was turned downwards, fist clenching and unclenching in regular intervals. _

_He was pathetic. So damn utterly useless with how he ran his life he'd only become a waste of space. His grip tightened on the blade in his hand and his face burned at how scared he felt. He had assured himself he could do it, could drag the knife edge across his skin and watch as crimson beads of his life drained away. But sat here, his grip shook, his resolve stumbled and his mind began to doubt._

Fuck, just do it already! _He cried shamelessly on the inside but he wouldn't do it. He was too afraid of what he may leave behind – afraid of the unknown that lurked in the shadowed realm that accompanied death. This was his life – there wasn't a second 'do-over' life where you could work harder and do more – you had one life. One shot at experiencing everything it threw at you. By letting it be torn away from the harsh cut of a knife blade...was it worth it?_

_The thoughts swirled around in his mind, churning at unfollowable speeds. He groaned and dropped the kitchen knife, gripping his hair in frustration._

"_Argh, I just so fucking useless!" He growled. He'd laboured his ass off in Italy so he'd be able to make his own way in Japan, but the exchange rate hadn't been kind, as had his pitiful savings. With a large serving of humiliation, Bianchi had convinced him to seek his father's aid and everything he had...this apartment, the clothes he wore, the always full bank account...it was all his father's doing._

Son of a bitch_, he thought bitterly, the words leaving a bitter taste in the air around him. It was obvious his father had only cared enough to support him because any son, whether from a mistress or from a fricking Gorilla, if the right-hand man of the tenth Vongola boss, it'd do wonders to his status among the mafia. Lift him dozen's of levels with the drop of a hat._

_Even now, he'd found that just by searching himself, he was getting nowhere...he was failing both himself and his mother with his ignorance. How hard was it to find a Vongola boss?_

_His cell phone shuddered in his pocket. Gokudera ignored it belligerently for a few moments before begrudgingly shovelling around in his pocket to dig it out._

_He flicked it open, stomach sinking at the caller ID._

"_Cosa vuoi Bianchi?" He asked tonelessly._

"_Bel modo di salutare tua sorella. They get more enthralling each time I dial this number."_

_Gokudera smiled wryly despite himself, angling his head up so he could rest it against the wall, "Is that why you keep on calling? Just to here my original greetings?"_

_There was a snort on the other end of the line, "Hardly. I've been calling because the Ninth left a message for you. A personal one I might add."_

_This caught his attention. The ninth only knew of Gokudera's mere existence because of his father and some incident that had happened years ago, one he very much did not ever want to recall and wondered what he'd done wrong this time, "What's the Ninth want?"_

"_Here, seen as I'm such a dear and considerate sister, I'll read what it says," she cleared her throat theatrically, "You want it in Japanese?"_

_Gokudera sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, "sure...I need the practice."_

"Hayato Gokudera, I have recently been informed of your excursion to Japan. I am delighted that you have taken such an interest in Vongola Decimo, however, I have reason to believe that you are unaware of his identity, thus I wonder if your expedition was a foolish choice with no preparation. However, such impulses are vital for a right-hand man, and I commend you for it. To aid you in your 'quest' if I may put it that way, I'd like to inform you that the boy you seek is named Tsunayoshi Sawada. He is enrolled in Namimori High School and I have just enrolled you on your behalf. Your uniform should be arriving within a day, which for you I think may already be now. I am aware that this letter is addressed to your previous residency in Italy, but I am certain your father or sister will pass on my regards. I look forward to seeing further development with your goal to becoming Vongola Decimo's right hand man and I want you to understand that you have my full support. Best regards_," Bianchi broke off, "all that's left is the seal. So, you gonna go? To Namimori I mean."_

_Again, the silver-haired teen pinched the bridge of his nose, breathing in exasperatedly "I've got no choice. If I want to become the right-hand man, then I'm going to have to do stuff I wish I wouldn't. Comes with the package. Guess that includes school."_

_Bianchi's laugh crackled through the receiver, "Honestly Gokudera...are you ever enthusiastic about anything?"_

_He answered dryly, "I do take delight in pouring my orange juice in the morning."_

_Bianchi only dignified his remark with a sigh, "Well, I know it must be late so..."_

The picture broke away and Gokudera felt himself detach from the scene in relief. He'd spent that night mulling over countless things, both dark and light matters if he wished to think of the memory in vague, blatant tones. He'd grown severely depressed those previous three months, living in seclusion, each lead he'd found had just run him to a dead end, and soon his well of enthusiasm ran dry. The pit of self-loathing and shame had opened up under him and he'd let it swallow him gladly. His sense of self-worth had almost extinguished and the Italian had lost nearly five kilos in the space of a month. He would have called it self-harm, but he'd just felt sick to his stomach when he ate, so hadn't touched anything. He really _had _wanted to end it all that night. His fear had been temporary, and as gut churning a thought as it was, he'd been ready to do it just before Bianchi had called. His fear had nearly one out, but really, he'd had no other reason to stay alive. He'd thought that his dried up leads must have been _some _sort of sign from the God's telling him to stop his inane searching.

How wrong he'd been. Shyly, he smiled to himself, looking now at the softly hovering flame before him. It pulsed variations of blue, gold, green and violet, but the majority of the luscious colouring was a beautiful ruby red. Its multi-coloured tongues licked and curled softly, a tender but no doubt fierce flame. It shimmered, voices in it beckoning him in with soft whispers that calmed his tired and troubled heart.

"_I love you Hayato. Remember it alright? It'll only ever be you who hears it."_

He smiled warmly at the sound of Yamamoto's sincere confession that day he'd stopped the idiot from jumping from the top of the school roof. He'd lost sight of life, just like Gokudera had done. Though it could be argued, how did you see life? It surrounded you so thoroughly, was so thick and luscious it was so easy to miss. The old saying 'you can't see the forest through the trees' came to mind.

"_I want my grapes _now_!"_

Gokudera outright laughed at the sound of Lambo's childish demand that radiated out from the flame, a flash of green accompanying it.

He stepped closer to the glowing light, hugging it to him, his friend's voices swarming around him, tending to his deeply rooted scars, easing the dull pain. More than anything, it was Yamamoto's voice that ushered soothing nothing's to his heart was what soothed him the most. His low, melodic voice was better than any lullaby, more musical than that of a nightingale. The slushy thoughts made his ears burn, but he let himself indulge in the cliché feelings.

Beauty wasn't a mask. Yamamoto proved that. Lies weren't the foundations of life – Tsuna's innocence defended that. Demonic memories _were _defeatable. Freedom could be given – he'd been locked in a cage his entire life, so tightly he hadn't even realised until he'd tried to break free. He had become what no-one had expected, no-one had _dreamt _of, with the aid of others, but ultimately through his own means.

Faith – that unbending, damn _stubborn _thing that everyone took for granted. Hope was its innocent cousin that saw and spoke no evil of the world, instead acting as the light that blotted it out. Faith stood among the shadows of the world, holding your hand as you fought your demons and walked through the thick darkness. They were one and the same, yet two halves of a whole at the same time. When hope died, faith took its place readily. It had done that when he had been taken by Grigori. He hadn't hoped _once _to escape, but had enough faith to know if he did, he would run till his feet bled. Faith came in many twisted forms, but it was always there and now it was apparent that faith was exactly what made up the foundations of his resolve.

His resolve was the faith to pick himself back up again when to give up would be the better option; Faith that he'd always be saved by those who cared; Faith that his existence has some worth, no matter how many times he was told or shown that it wasn't; Faith that he has something to come back to when the sun set over the world; faith that he could hand Yamamoto his heart and trust it would be held gently and with the care it so desperately desired; it was never a faith in some imaginary being like God, but the tangible belief in those that had proved themselves worthy of his trust. He had faith in love, honour and courage, and to be at peace with himself and move onwards.

Faith that despite all he was, wasn't or should never be, he had the power to become worthy of being dubbed the right-hand man of the Tenth Vongola boss. He had faith that he would one day hold the responsibility of his friend's life in his hands on the battle field. It was a faraway dream, but it was still there. It hadn't faded and just as hope always did it shone above that dream brightly, waiting for faith to lead him there. And he would, both he and Yamamoto would get there.

Just as he began to absorb the colourful flame, Vongola's family emblem sprung to the silver-haired teen's mind. Slowly, the flames seemed to spread through his body from his chest, the fire zapping hungrily through his skin, glad to be one with its master once again. It lit his skin, but it didn't burn and peel like he would have imagined.

As his mind began to drift closer to consciousness, there was a sharp cry, one of a beautiful ancient creature that only the Vongola were worthy of representing.

The powerful majestic Phoenix of ages. It's gold, fiery wings opened to him as he was pulled away, its slender head tilted up as its song broke from its beak, a melody too melancholic for words to describe it. His own melody, that of the piano and his mental orchestra accompanied it, the strings and commanding tune a stunning representation of strength, loss and bittersweet agony.

_From the ashes we are born, and from those ashes we forgive ourselves for our sins and atone. Forever we will rise and fall, but for eternity will shall protect until our life is taken. We are eternal not in our forms, but in our dreams for an ideal world._

Pride and confidence swelled in Gokudera's heart, his head becoming fuzzy with light-headedness. His muscles felt warm and renewed under his touch, every fibre tingling.

He felt renewed, in every sense. Looked like soul searching wasn't all yoga-mats and incense after all – what a shame.

* * *

Yamamoto was surprised by how he'd been holding his breath, letting it out in a gush when he saw Gokudera's eyes flutter softly before opening.

He dipped his lips intimately close, brushing them lightly against his lovers smooth, creamy skin, pecking him gently on the cheek.

It was an added buzz to the warm jolts sizzling through his system, but as Gokudera found himself becoming more aware of his surroundings and the startling fact that _they weren't alone, _he asserted his bad boy attitude and let it kick into hyper drive.

"Get off me you damn jerk!"

Pushing up onto his haunches, pressing his palms against his lover's shoulders, the Storm Guardian was surprised to see his skin dancing with thick translucent flames – the same techni-coloured one he'd found in his mind. There was sharp sparks of blue gathering around his palms where they touched Yamamoto's body.

"Cool..." Yamamoto spoke in awe, placing his own flaming hands on his lovers, startled by how their flames didn't scold one another's skin. Instead, they twined together, thick as two vines ensnaring each other, his cobalt blue flames morphing into Gokudera's.

"Stop it," Reborn commanded, suddenly beside them. Yamamoto and Gokudera sprung apart quickly, worried they'd done something wrong.

"Not meant to do that kiddo?" Yamamoto threw on his goofy grin, hoping it would soften whatever blow the infant was about to deal him. Honest to God, the Japanese teen wasn't sure how much more physical abuse this battered body of his could handle...

Reborn's gaze was arctic when they locked with Dino's, ignoring Yamamoto's attempt at humour.

They murmured to each other softly in Italian, voices hushed, but both Chrome and Gokudera heard all they needed to know and their eyes met, faces turning ashen.

Yamamoto caught on to the darkening mood surrounding his lover, and dragged by a grumpy Hibari and stunned Ryohei over towards them. His hands singed at the touch of their flames and he quickly had to usher them towards the two worried Italian's with his hands held away from them. That was weird...he was able to touch Gokudera without feeling a thing...well, _actually, _if he touched his lover, he felt even _better, _like he was draining something from his lover's body...was it possible their flames had something in common? Did all those strange colours mean something?

"Oi, Yamamoto, your Japanese ass needed over here!" Gokudera called out none too quietly. Yamamoto misunderstood his lover's intentions and his face reddened as he walked forwards.

Gokudera caught on to how his words could have been misinterpreted and he too joined his companion with the blushing onslaught.

Hibari looked vaguely amused by the two boy's reactions to each other, but was already growing weary of Chrome's dodgy translations of what Reborn and Dino were discussing. It irked him greatly when the Italian did that – leaving him out of the loop. It quite frankly pissed him off, but most things did.

"Gokudera, explain _briefly,_" he directed a curt look to Chrome who all but wilted under his gaze, "what those two instructors over there are oh-so kindly keeping from us."

Gokudera crossed his arms and wondered if he should be defiant about it, the red in his flames beginning to spark more obviously.

"Hayato..." Yamamoto warned in a low tone, not wanting the silver-haired teen to get so fired up when all of them were in such vulnerable states.

His expression darkened and he turned his gaze away, fixating it on Tsuna's still body, "We had time limit of one hour. We all woke up before that time limit was up. The tenth though..." his expression turned pained, "hasn't and it's been three minutes over the limit already. If you go over it for too long...you'll sink into a coma and die." He swallowed a lump in his throat thickly.

Ryohei's expression was comically distressed and his eyes wide with worry as he dragged his hands through his hair, "Well, what do we do? Is there some extreme way to bring him back?"

Gokudera shrugged, broken off in whatever response he may have been given by having someone's hard boot crash into his ribs.

He cried out and stumbled into Yamamoto who caught him easily. Theatrically, they fell over each other in the scrabble, a mess of tangled legs and arms. When he raised his head, Gokudera's was precariously close to Yamamoto's and his body heat wasn't helping cool his red-hot cheeks.

"If you're quite finished fondling each other..." Reborn taunted as the two Guardian's scrambled to their feet.

Ryohei bit down on his lip to stop his mouth from quirking up in a smile, and Hibari just shot them a bored look. Good to know their companions carried such a variation of humour – wouldn't want things to get dull.

Reborn paced beside Tsuna's limp body and his tone hardened, "The idiot. To get lost in your own _sub consciousness..._how stupid can you get?"

Gokudera immediately stiffened at the verbal abuse towards his boss. He'd tried his best! Gokudera hadn't really understood exactly how he'd woken up – it had just been as though the flame had been a current, carrying back to reality. He hadn't really had to do anything – it had been instinctual.

"Chrome..." the hitman spoke only her name, but she nodded, an un-conveyed thought passing between the two of them.

"Uh, Yamamoto...? Gokudera?" She began to open her mouth again to voice her question when the earth beneath them shuddered. Ryohei yelped as he was thrown into Hibari who kicked him away like a master would to a disobedient dog.

"Dino!" Reborn called out to the surrounding trees. There was silence for three heartbeats, another crash and then Dino stumbled out, clutching his right arm that was oozing blood from between his fingertips. Hibari jerked, ready to help his tutor, but Ryohei restrained him subtly by the arm and the prefect stiffened but stood still whilst Reborn strode towards the wounded man.

After a moment, the child hissed, "_Shit_," before turning to the rest of the Guardian's. Gokudera had automatically leant up against Yamamoto both for support and to protect him. He sensed something was wrong and wasn't surprised when Reborn said, "We've been ambushed. There's a mafia family here that wants Tsuna. We don't know which family they're under, but it doesn't matter." He pointed towards Tsuna's body, "Take him away from here Chrome – across the river preferably. Hibari and Ryohei, you both will stay here with Dino to hold them off. I'll go and stamp some reality into Tsuna with the others."

Yamamoto and Gokudera felt immediately annoyed, "But, I wanna fight!" Yamamoto protested, but Gokudera jabbed him in the ribs hurriedly. He groaned at the sharp jab, rubbing his sore side. The Italian was just as irked to not be chosen to help offensively protect his boss, but they were obviously needed somewhere else, and the closer he was to Tsuna, the safer he felt his boss would be.

"You will do as I say. Are we clear?" The child ordered, directing a small finger towards Lambo who was nestled in Chrome's arms, "Make sure that idiot of a cow doesn't get washed away in the river alright?"

Chrome nodded earnestly, and with a curt goodbye, Yamamoto hitched Tsuna up onto his back, and they were off at full pelt, hurtling away from the clearing as fast as they could. Reborn had advised them to release their flames that had encased their body dare it influence Tsuna, and the boy's had obliged, settling for the small flame that flickered on their rings.

Chrome led then, with Lambo cradled gently in her arms, trident strung across her back, held on only by two thick black straps that wound tightly around her chest. Reborn was sat atop Gokudera's shoulder, eyes cast straight ahead, barking directions to Chrome.

"Reborn..." Gokudera huffed as he raced alongside Yamamoto, "H-how long does Tsuna have?"

The silence that followed made him think the child hadn't heard him or refused to answer, but it was only temporary, "perhaps six minutes. Ten at the most but I doubt he has the stamina."

Gritting his teeth, Gokudera sped up, snapping to Chrome to run faster.

"Oi, Hayato, watch the cliff edge!" Yamamoto called out from just behind him.

Gokudera whirled on the run, "Wha-?" But it escalated to a yell as the ground beneath his left foot gave way. His foot touched nothing but air for a bare heartbeat and suddenly he was tumbling.

"_Hayato!_" Yamamoto bellowed, swerving so he was heading towards his falling lover.

In a flash, Reborn had already leapt from his carriers shoulder onto the ground a good ten metres away and stopped a flustered Chrome from advancing any further.

The Storm Guardian looked over his shoulder while he fell backwards, having whirled around to try and help Reborn and cursed whatever God's were up in heaven.

That damn river below him was pretty fast, no...it was fricking _rapid. _Its current slammed against its banks hungrily, wanting to smash its way through its narrow path and he was about to fall into it. His feet were to far from the edge and his hands weren't able to grasp at the edge of the cliff.

_Argh, shit!_

The Storm Guardian went to try and attempt a dive to help soften the fall. He tried to anticipate how cold it might be, the way he'll have his oxygen torn out of his lungs. He winced, knowing he had merely a breathes worth of time before he crashed into the cold inferno below him.

With a sudden jolt, a fire started in Gokudera's right arm. His muscles jerked and nerves frazzled at the searing pain. With a cry he looked up, his fall having been stopped by something. Had he gotten his arm caught in a jutting out tree root?

There was an oh-so-human grunt above him and a splattering of mud and dirt fell into his face as someone dug their heels into the ground to try and haul him up.

"Hold on Hayato." Yamamoto ordered him gruffly, panting with the effort. For someone so slight, the Italian sure was heavy when he wanted to be. Was he even _trying _to haul himself up? The swordsman somehow doubted it, "_C'mon!_" he grunted, struggling to haul his lover up.

Tsuna lay only a few feet away, breathing soundly. He'd laid his friend down as gently as could be expected – so had practically dropped him like you would a jacket – before almost throwing himself over the edge of the cliff to grab a hold of Gokudera. He'd been so relieved he'd gotten a hold of his wrist. Imagine grabbing his hair...knowing Gokudera and his well educated mouth the boy would have alliterated many obscenities that someone should never hear. No matter, even with just his wrist being held, the boy was cursing with more talent than a drunken sailor.

A few grunts and several curses later, with the combined effort of the two Guardians', Gokudera had been safely dragged back onto solid ground. He all but collapsed shamelessly into his lover's arms, breath heaving against Yamamoto's well muscled chest, soothed by his lovers body-heat and steady heart rate.

The soft sound of a polite cough from behind them shook the two Guardians' out of their momentary paralysis. They looked around, Yamamoto with one arm casually hooked over Gokudera's shoulders, to see Chrome nestled over Tsuna. She hissed as her fingers scalded against the boy's skin.

"What is it? Has he got a fever?" Gokudera's stomach dropped down into the river below, washing away with it. Oh god, had his slip up cost Tsuna more than they could afford?

Chrome held her burnt hand to her chest, "No, it's just that my flame gets rejected by his. Whatever's going in there, my flame's immediately repelled. It's hurt quite a bit," she held up her reddened palm and fingers as proof.

Gokudera hissed as though he could feel the singing burn and frowned, "well, what have you got to do so he _won't _reject your..." he waved his hand, searching for the word, "thing." He settled for that. No need for details.

Chrome mashed her lips together, a worried look passing through her violet eye. Reborn filled in admirably for her, "You two will have to bridge together. Gokudera, as the Storm Guardian, you are able to access the Rain flame and being the Rain Guardian so can Yamamoto. Together, you will be able to neutralise Chrome's mist flame and allow her access into Tsuna's mind."

He turned his gaze up to them, "It's incredibly dangerous though. Only fools with no training would think of doing such a reckless thing with no preparation."

"How dangerous?" Gokudera asked slowly. He was willing to do _anything _to help Tsuna, but not if what he did may do the boy more harm if he messed up.

"If you two aren't able to bridge properly, one of you may drain the others life out of them. One flame may be stronger than the other. You've both experienced a mental link before though, so I highly doubt that will happen but there is the risk that with the continued exposure to your minds, you may form a mental connection, much like the one Chrome has with Mukuro. Would you be able to accept that?"

Yamamoto and Gokudera looked at each other squarely. The sudden risk of losing what little privacy they had was a saddening thought, but if it saved Tsuna, then they would have gone naked, painted themselves blue and done the hockey-pokey in front of the Queen.

Worried their voices would betray them; the two Guardians' did nothing but nod and move towards their boss slowly, a sudden weight now pushing down on them.

_God I hope this works, _they both thought, swallowing. Maybe Gokudera should have grabbed a little more than just _toast _that morning.

_**A/N: **__Well...not too sure that ended exactly how I wanted it...but oh well ): It gets a little more interesting and tense in the next chapter :3 Will Tsuna wake up? Will Gokudera and Yamamoto end up telepathically linked? *smiles wickedly at you all ;3* I'm such a mean writer...please don't get out the pitch forks yet to skewer me for the boring chapters! I've got some juicy *yeah, the lemons too :D* for Gokudera and Yamamoto, so just...COPE with these boring chapters kay? They're necessary for the rest of the plot kay? I know everything seems pretty easily laid out so far, but there're gonna be a lot of forks soon in the path, and I'll be sure to push you readers down one of them, but make sure to wonder about the other ones ;3 (whoa, that was very philosophical ;D My English teacher would be so proud XD)_

_For anyone, who like me, can't understand one word of Italian, here's the translation for what Bianchi and Gokudera said to each other =) Forgive me, Italian speakers, if I got some of the grammar wrong! Blame Google translator ;D_

_Bel modo di salutare tua sorella – nice way to greet your sister_

_Cosa vuoi Bianchi – what do you want Bianchi?_


	10. Stuck at the Crossroads

_**A/N: **__recently saw Harry Potter 7 the other day – thought it would help me with my muse – seems she's Harry Potter intolerant O_O so please forgive any crappy descriptions or really just the entire chapter T_T *hides in a corner* some parts are somehow decent, but otherwise, its just a bit of a waste I think...*falls into pit of misery* correct me if I'm wrong though :D Meh always likeh being corrected xDD  
Again, this _is _AU, so if it gets a little too OOC for some characters, uhm…bear with me? . Anyway, this chapter will either be really long, or unbelievable middle range with a bad cut off ;) I think I might go with monstrously long – it's been a few chapters since you've seen one of those :P And happy Tenth Chapter! I've finally broken the two-digit barrier! Also, your wonderful reviews are a sight to behold, they really are *gets all teary and girlish* Thank you for both your support and criticism! It makes me only want to impress you all the more! (Which I don't think I've really done with this chapter...¬_¬ oh well)_

**Chapter Ten – Stuck at the Crossroads**

_"What have I done now?  
Lost again somehow  
I'm getting better and better  
at making things worse_

_I should have known_  
_I should have tried_  
_here lies the one_  
_who couldn't survive_  
_Buried alone, buried alive..."_

**-Buried Alive – Lovers and Liars**

Though Chrome had already explained, Yamamoto felt utterly stumped. He had his head jutted forwards, tilted to the left as if he would be able to understand the girl better. Instead, the words just flowed into him with as much sense as they would have had she spoken to him in Icelandic.

"Uh...run that by me again?" He quirked his mouth up in an apologetic grin, one which Gokudera looked ready to swipe off with an iron fist.

Chrome looked distressed at Yamamoto's inability to grasp at the seriousness of the situation, flinching when Gokudera whacked him upside the head.

"Ouch!" He complained, rubbing his head, "Just 'cause I don't get it..."

Gokudera's eyes were fiery, "That's not the point Takeshi. It's _basic. _Honestly," his tone defiant, he huffed, "Tsuna's affinity is with air according to Reborn. Because of that, it clashes with Chrome's affinity for shadow and mist..." His brow rose skyward at the thought, "Which is kinda cool I'll admit...but that's not the point," he could tell Yamamoto was losing the plot from his vacant expression. He resisted the urge to snap his fingers in front of his lovers face, "You and I both control the attribute of water. Don't give me that look. Element affinities comes with the whole flame package. It's like an affinity – you know, you're more _tuned _to that element than another – like some people love to play with fire-"

"That's just stupidity," Yamamoto inserted dryly.

Gokudera sighed, exasperated, "That's beside the point Takeshi."

Yamamoto sighed, pressing his palms over his eyes, "I get all that Hayato just not how _you _have the attribute for water and rain or whatever the hell it is. You're the Storm Guardian not the Rain."

Now it was Reborn's turn to blabber on to the confused teen, "Gokudera's special Yamamoto. The Storm Guardian's always are. Their usual volatile nature means their bodies are able to withstand greater burdens than any of the other Guardian's, thus their ability to manipulate more than one flame, hence Gokudera's charming multi-coloured aura."

"Cheers," the Italian muttered, feeling a little like a child that had been commended for a small finger-print painting - Nothing to be _that _proud of.

Reborn continued, ignoring the Italian even though he was the focus of the conversation, "He has the ability to tap into the Rain, Sun, Cloud and Lightning attribute, a very strong asset when in battle. Now, you alone with Chrome cannot form a link because two is unstable in an illusionist's world, especially when handling another's sub-consciousness. Things go very wrong. Three however, two with similar attributes, is far safer and together, there's the lower probability that you'll die."

His tone, so blasé, nearly meant the boys' missed the vital ending of his sentence.

"Sorry, did you say we might _die?_" Not a pretty thought...Though Gokudera was willing to cut off both his ears for Tsuna, _dying _was a pretty big thing. When on the battle-field, adrenalin pumping through your veins, to throw around a term like 'I'll die for you' seemed easy enough – with your own flame at full blast, you felt invincible, but when away from the war-front, it was a startling thought, one that suddenly gave his actual life a sharp new edge. He felt a little guilty that he was so unwilling to think about his own mortality rate when at a time like this, it should mean little when in the balance of his friend's. The Italian felt almost..._selfish. _He was actually valuing his life over another's...

"Hey, Hayato..." Yamamoto warned, not wanting his distracted lover to be hit over the head by the temperamental infant. Though the sight would have felt very rewarding considering all the grief his beloved gave him daily.

Gokudera waved him off, brushing away both his thoughts and his lover's quietly frantic tone, "Jeez, stop it would you?"

Chrome again politely cleared her throat and directed her question to Yamamoto, "So, do you understand Yamamoto-kun? What you and Gokudera have to do is incredibly difficult and it could-"

"Kill us, yeah we know," Gokudera interrupted with a bored tone. Chrome flinched at his intense glare and he asked, "Can you just show us what to do? I don't want Tenth to die because we sat here explaining the workings of it to baseball idiot over here."

Yamamoto looked stung at the insult, but understood the intentions beneath the silver-haired Italian's sharp tongue. Tsuna was in danger, and though he wished the Italian wouldn't be so rough with him, he had to admit the situation called for a bit of brusqueness.

Chrome nodded, feeling a little rushed by Reborn's intense gaze. She gestured for the boy's to lift their hands, "It's really quite simple for you both. You just have to hold each other's hands," She blushed at the implication, "It's for the body contact I swear!"

Yamamoto smiled amusedly at her customary flustering but Gokudera just seemed irritated. With a start, Gokudera realised that perhaps around Chrome he had to be a little more _delicate _with the way he reacted to things, and schooled his expression into a determined stare, one that pleaded for her to continue.

Swallowing, Chrome proceeded, "You then put your other hand on my shoulders and then I put mine onto Tsuna's chest. It _has _to go in a specific order though. If it doesn't...one of us might swallow someone else's flame and in the worse case scenario, take their life."

Yamamoto felt fears icy fingers clench his stomach. He was desperate for some sort of understanding of what he was actually doing, but guessed all he could do was nod along and hope to hell he was doing the right thing. He felt envious of Gokudera's obvious grasp on the situation, contrary to his blankness. Mortification coloured his tan cheeks. Why did healways have to be the one that was lost?

"What do we do first?" Desperately wanting to seem as though he fully knew what the hell was going on, Yamamoto asked the question as nonchalantly as he could. Gokudera noticed how difficult this must be for him though and couldn't help a shy smile that ended up looking more like a smirk. Ah, the beauty of a warped personality.

Chrome blinked, surprised by the Rain Guardian's eagerness, stumbling, "uh...it's you two first. You have to be the first ones. Then, you activate your full-body flame."

Hesitantly, Yamamoto placed his palm over Gokudera's, entwining their fingers. His heart warmed when the Italian squeezed his hand back in return. With just as much resistance as before, they forced themselves to push through their own mental barriers to get through to the source of their flame and allow it to overcome them. It was like when you pulled your hand away from a hot stove – It was reflexive to move away from something that could hurt you. Allowing your flame to swallow you was just like that hot stove – you shouldn't touch it; shouldn't keep your hand so close that you'll feel the burn of what you shouldn't touch. What they were doing was not just touching what they shouldn't, but keeping it there – to be burnt was to be strong in the mafia world – that was something Gokudera's father had taught him repeatedly as a boy, both verbally and physically – looked like the old man had at least gotten _something _right.

Slowly, Gokudera managed to isolate the rain affinity in his flame, but it was that sensation of how he felt he was standing on nothing but shifting sand, his body unable to focus well without being moved to another spot. He felt as though he was sliding across ice barefoot.

Grimacing, Gokudera tried to force himself to grab a hold of the rain affinity he knew he could control if he just exerted enough self-discipline.

_Hayato..._the voice brushed his mind and Gokudera immediately flinched, the blue flame sparking and swelling. He pulled his hand away, then cursed and thrust it forwards as far as could. He swore at how there seemed to be some wall or bars holding him away from the flame and wished his consciousness would just let him do as he pleased.

_Hayato stop..._

_T-Takeshi? _He thought the name with an obvious stutter, his outstretched arm momentarily falling away from the too-far-away flame.

Soft, tentative fingers brushed his mind again and if Gokudera had been fully awake, he would have stiffened and bristled at the notion. Noticing his reaction though, Yamamoto quickly retracted as much as he could, not wanting to impose on his lover's thoughts any more than he had to,_ I'm only trying to help._

Feeling like a retard for being so hostile, Gokudera tried to take a different approach and slowly tried to push out to Yamamoto, mimicking his lover's ministrations. There was a near palpable shudder from Yamamoto's consciousness as his fingers stroked his mind.

_What the hell am I doing? _The question was thought with awe accompanying it, his hands figuratively reaching out further, wanting to pull his lover back towards him. If Yamamoto had been able to do it before when he'd been nothing but a jabbering mess, then surely he could now, even if their positions were reversed.

If Yamamoto could have, he would have laughed, but was able to settle with knowing that Gokudera wanted to stay connected to him and teased, _you're being too forceful on the flame._

_Huh? _Gokudera cast his attention back to the hovering blue flame which seemed to flare brighter whenever it heard Yamamoto's soothing thoughts. _How the heck did he _do _that?_

_You're letting too much of your storm element drive you forwards. Literally Hayato, you've got to _calm down.

Had he not been mentally locked in his own thoughts, Gokudera would have head slapped him for being annoying, but he was right. As per usual, he let his determination get the better of him and because of his incompetence he was letting Tsuna down even more.

The rain flame dimmed at his flaring mood and Yamamoto tried to soothe him, _Hayato, you're impatience won't make it come to you any faster. Just...relax would you?_

Wanting to give the swordsman a withering glare, Gokudera mimicked a deep breath and forced his body to think there was no time limit, that he had all the time he needed to get a hold of the rain flame. He didn't push his arm out so far now, and just held his hand out like you would if you going to take someone's hand and surprisingly, imagined the flame as Yamamoto.

Swelling to an impossible size at the welcomed change in its master's mood, the flame lit up nearly ever corner of his mind, all its chaos and tranquillity, the burnt edges he wished he didn't have to look at, the raging desperation he felt to save Tsuna. With outstanding speed, long tendrils shot out to wash over those areas, cooling their reddened hot edges. It swooped over the sore corners he didn't like to dwell on and felt more at peace as they softened with their sharp edged pain. Was the flame actually trying to _heal _him?

Again Yamamoto outstretched his thoughts to his lover, willing him as best he could not to shut him out again. He was startled by the intensity of the Italian's affinity for the rain attribute and a little envious. Not even _he _could wield his affinity this well, yet here Gokudera was, with the attribute bending to his very will, even without him asking it to.

_Hayato, _he ushered the name quietly, _we have to link and help Chrome._

Gokudera looked around. He'd almost forgotten about Chrome and felt the near undeniable urge to kick himself repeatedly. Forgetting about Chrome meant forgetting Tsuna and that was something he refused to do. Shaking himself in much the same fashion as a wet dog would, Gokudera thrust out his hand, grabbing a hold of Yamamoto's mind, his other half soaking up the soothing blue flame that sank into him with ease, melting into him.

Yamamoto was startled by Gokudera's calm, fluid movements, so agile in their ability to fully wield an element he had before now, known nothing about. A most unwanted pang of envy struck him again, but it was crossed with pride this time. Lost in his little moment of enjoyable awe, Yamamoto felt startled when he felt himself getting dragged away from the darkened pit of their thoughts, springing up with the same annoying sluggishness you had when leaping up from the bottom of a swimming pool.

Though the two's eye opened, this time to reality, Yamamoto could still feel that iron grip enclosed around his skeleton, the vine that entwined around both his own and his lovers core, entwining their flames together.

Chrome exhaled, her violet eye gleaming with relief when she saw the two Guardians' emerge from their mental trance. It had been a hunch of hers to think the two Guardian's could handle another temporary 'link' between the two of them, but was worried what the consequences of this link would be. Mentally shooing the thoughts away, Chrome steadied herself and hoped that her body would be able to endure the strain. Even with Mukuro's outstanding ability to help her live, she wondered if even he could up keep such a feat when the soul was so deeply submerged in another's. A fatal risk was exactly what she was taking, but this wasn't a common teenage kid playing 'mafia'. To lose such a valuable asset like Tsuna; nothing was excusable.

Hands still held firmly together, Gokudera and Yamamoto reached out to Chrome with their other free arms, resting their palms on her slight shoulders. Reining in the intensity of their flames until Chrome had summoned her own, they sat there for a few heartbeats before Reborn broke the silence.

"You have three minutes. Begin."

As if entranced, both Rain and Storm Guardian released the entirety of their attribute onto Chrome, dulling as much of her affinity as was possible. A feeling similar to drowning overcame the frail girl and for a moment, she was lost in the soothing current of the Rain before resurfacing, enclosed in its cool embrace.

Murmuring a string of words in a language none of them but her knew, Chrome pushed her hands down onto Tsuna's chest and had they expected their to be some Hollywood flash or a sudden gush of wind to dramatise the movement, they would have been sorely disappointed. The only sensation the boy's felt was an unwelcome lurch deep in their bones. It was as though the thick coiled vines of their flames were being wrenched away from their bodies.

Immediately Gokudera felt drained and impossibly tired. It couldn't be possible for him to feel so bone-dead tired and raw, but knelt there, unmoving yet inwardly being pulled towards the centre of the earth with how heavy he felt, he wondered if his soul was being slowly sucked out. His eyelids drooped, dark stars dancing in front of his eyes, flecking his vision.

Beside him, though just as exhausted as Gokudera, Yamamoto squeezed his hand reassuringly, willing his partner not to collapse under the strain. It was just on the verge of unbearable but strangely, didn't feel painful but more as though something was being borrowed from him – though at an unimaginable rate – and had faith that if he endured it, then soon he would have his strength given back.

Thinking that it would only be Chrome who delved into Tsuna's mind, Gokudera was more than shocked to find himself being dragged with the Illusionist as she sank deeper. As she searched through the sleeping boy's mind, Gokudera had the strange thought that he and Yamamoto very much resemble two menacing bodyguards shielding some kind of VIP. Their thick spiralling blue flames encircled their own bodies and hers, like a make-shift cage, closing off her mist flame to a dull pale violet.

After what should have been more than a good half an hour but seemed to have been an actual mere heartbeat, Chrome stopped.

_What's the matter Chrome? _Yamamoto immediately asked, searching around gently with his blue flame, reaching out for any barrier she might have found, or any sign of Tsuna.

_He's..._she thought to them, _over there..._she didn't point, but instead shifted forwards, like a ghost would – if they existed – and as they drew closer to one sheltered corner of the Tenth's mind, their flames slowly illuminated what could only ever be visually described as a hunched, shivering ball of...well, _Tsuna._

_Tenth, _Gokudera let the relief swell through him, making his blue flames bulge and brighten in their intensity. Unconsciously, the tendrils reached out towards the rocking figure, but sensing its approach, Tsuna moved in a way that could have been thought of as recoiling. When unusually he would glow from the inside out, he seemed more like a black hole now – taking in everything but giving away nothing.

_Hayato, _Yamamoto warned, but the Storm Guardian didn't have to be told twice. The way Chrome stood, her near frozen pose told him more than any thoughts from Yamamoto could. Tsuna looked petrified – more spooked than a cat surrounded by malicious dogs. _Tact _had to be given in such a circumstance as this.

_Tsuna? _Chrome reached out with a delicate hand, whether it have been her own or just an extension of her flame, neither Guardian's knew. She was within a hair's breadth of the mafia boss when he flinched, pushing himself backwards as though his entire mind had become nothing more than a wall for him to drive himself up against repeatedly.

Yamamoto was stiff and unmoving beside Gokudera, his flame pulsing like a second body around his own. This wasn't right – none of it was. This world – whatever it was – was a place he had never thought Tsuna would go. It was a wasteland, where any thought could spin away in any direction with no horizon; no end. It was the closest thing to Limbo that you had – ironic that it could be found inside your own head.

_Inner glow..._the words kept on whirling around Gokudera's mind, the answer a brief glimpse or flash of realisation before it vanished. Around and around he went, feeling more frustrated by the minute until Dino's instructions smacked him in the face. Almost quite literally given the realm they were in.

_Search for your inner flame; Your resolve._

Of course – how thick, blind and incomparably idiotic did one have to be to miss it? So blatantly obvious yet cunningly skilled, Gokudera had cast his eyes over the dimly glowing figure and just let his relief at finding the Tenth's wandering soul rush over him.

_You couldn't find it...that's why you didn't wake up. You refused to leave until you'd found your reason._

Tsuna looked up, or at least, his form moved in a way that resembled the motion – and his thoughts rushed towards them faster than a tidal wave.

_I looked, I really did. Everywhere. Searched, lights, anywhere I could, I looked. Thought of everything – friends, you, Dad, Mum, Kyoko...Vongola Primo – didn't work – I'm useless, sorry, so sorry..._

Stepping forwards, away from Yamamoto and their protective barrier around Chrome, Gokudera knelt in front of the shivering boy, his flames licking the boy's dull form in a weak attempt to spark some sort of flame in return.

_Tsuna, _Gokudera thought sternly, alarming the boy immediately. Never had Gokudera really said his first name – it had forever been 'Tenth' or his full name. The familiarity of his name gained the Italian the Japanese teen's full attention.

_Look at me Tsuna._

His no-joking tone frightened and consolidated the shaken boy in a confusing mixture of shock and awe. The blue lights that seemed to be touching his skin were soft and though seemed un-offensive, did little to help his dull unseeing eyes.

_So he hasn't just been affected physically but mentally as well..._Yamamoto observed.

Gokudera suppressed the urge to go _well done moron, you've proved your ability to exploit the obvious. Good to know you're up to speed, _and instead made to reach out for his stunned friend.

This time, Tsuna seemed too defeated to flinch and just sat hunched there, only registering when Gokudera actually managed to touch him.

_Please Gokudera, don't, _he complained, but Gokudera held fast.

_Tsuna, for all the things that you've been able to do up until now, do you really think you need to get so depressed about something like _this? He gestured to all that was around them – the empty chaos and the fact that each spare moment they spent in this wasteland, the worse Tsuna would be later.

_But I'm supposed to..._Tsuna began.

_What? What are you meant to do Tsuna? _Chrome asked it as gently as she could, taking on a maternal tone, soothing his frayed nerves as best she could.

Tsuna curled in on himself and shook his head, refusing to say, but Gokudera thought he might have heard the brief murmur of a '_supposed to protect you all'._

Straightening, Gokudera did what he thought was impossible and dragged Tsuna up with him. His skeleton seemed to freeze though and had he had a stomach in this realm, it would have dropped to his feet.

_Chrome? _But he couldn't turn to her. He couldn't breathe – had he _needed _to breathe in this realm he would have already been out of breath; he understood from the messages his brain was sending to his body – take deeper breaths, control heart rate, don't panic.

_We have to go,_ she said hurriedly, but gasped and nearly collapsed. When Yamamoto caught her glowing form, her outline so faded and ever changing like the others he was surprised any of them were touchable, she screamed. It was a soul's cry that imitated agony reborn into a single thought – a jolt of pain so sharp and searing you didn't feel it until another cried out.

Falling to their knees, none could see clearly. Lights flared in front of their vision and it took more out of him that it should have to ask, _what the hell is happening?_

He heard nothing for too many heartbeats and with his blotched vision, assumed the worst and lunged as far as he could, relieved to feel something familiar beneath his fingers. Yamamoto's flame.

_Hayato, _the swordsman's voice stroked his mind gently.

_Takeshi, what's the matter? _Even through the pain, Gokudera clung to Tsuna, refusing to let the shivering mass of dull gold go.

Another break of silence, one which made the Italian feel like his heart had lodged itself into a thick, swollen mass in his throat.

_Her body's suffering – if we don't leave now Chrome'll die. Without her, we'll never get out._

Had there been any other situation that suited the term 'oh shit' better than this, then Gokudera did _not _want to know.

The fragile peace that surrounded them silently exploded. It became as though everything was being sucked into Chrome – as if she were acting herself now as a black hole. Ironic when Gokudera had relayed the stark image to Tsuna not a few moments ago.

_Chrome! _Gokudera called out, feeling her own fear coil and merge with Tsuna's despair.

Their bodies already linked to Chromes through their complicated and draining mental link, Gokudera and Yamamoto could feel their minds being dragged in every so slowly, with as much strength to fight it as you would if you were being hit from behind by a strong gust of wind.

Never had Gokudera felt so powerless but then again, never had he heard Chrome scream – but there she was, barking the orders to them in their minds, Tsuna's included.

_Collapsing – illusion will disappear – vanish - hold onto me – it'll hurt – will hurt – don't let go. _Don't_ let go of me!_

Though her orders were disjointed and very much just a bit of a curdled mess, the two Guardian's were able to link in together enough to grab a hold of her, Gokudera with his arm tightly enclosed around Tsuna's still whimpering form.

There was a beyond searing pain that shot up Gokudera's arm when he touched Chrome that he almost let go. Nearly every single one of his nerves seemed like they were fraying at the edges, fizzling out into burnt out nubs. It was what he thought would be more than he could endure, yet still he held on for whatever his life was worth, letting Chrome suck them in, her void presence swallowing them whole into a pit of engulfing darkness.

With her last burst of strength, Chrome opened the gates of her mind upon the captive Guardian's around her, making sure that Tsuna was connected as well through a channel made in her mind. She flooded them with intense memories of their reality – of where they came from, what they had to go back to. Such was the unbearable risk of mind control – it was so very easy to lose yourself in the simple unparalleled world of dreams – where the boundary lines between reality and the dream merged so thoroughly you couldn't tear them apart. Even with Mukuro's urging thoughts giving the frail Guardian that extra push to see that they woke safely, Chrome found it far too tempting to just let them stay in this limbo. Such euphoria in a world only you controlled, that had no outside influence; it was beyond a dream – it resembled that high you had when under the sweet influence of toxins – a world of everything and the impossible.

_Chrome you're losing yourself, _Mukuro warned her faintly, but his guidance was fading.

_I want to stay though..._she moaned the thought and her strength seemed to fade even faster then, seeping out of her bones like moisture sucked from soil.

She felt her control slipping – had she had any control in the beginning – slowly she wondered if she'd ever had any strength...had she really been a help? Should she have just let Mukuro leave her to die?

Despair yawned black under her, a dark beast ready to devour her.

_Chrome, snap out of it, please!_

The young girl was startled to find the plea had come from Tsuna – his body was still a dull ember but in the darkening furrows of her make-shift world, it was as brilliant a shine as the sun.

_Tsuna...? _She thought wearily, then realised how stupid she had been. The pain of knowing her organs were fading under the duress of being swallowed into Tsuna's mind had swamped her common sense. She'd become so drained – whether it be physically or mentally – and had allowed Tsuna's despair to leak into her own consciousness.

Saving her mental criticism for later, Chrome surged forwards, breaking free of the thin bonds Yamamoto and Gokudera had entwined around her – the sudden release was a jolt to their battered systems, but one they would jus have to cope with while Chrome struggled to drag them out.

_I can't give up – I can't...not now...Not. Now._

And with a scream that would have let the dead rise, she broke through.

* * *

Thinking he had been thrown back into his skin at the speed of a bullet, Gokudera shot himself upwards into an upright position, but fell back down onto his elbows, his muscles holding as much strength as trampled dirt would.

Thinking his nerves had been strung out into a fine wire, Gokudera's skin felt hyper-sensitive, reacting even to the soft caress of the air around him. It made his body tingle and shiver, even when the temperature was at a mild roundabout 25 degrees.

_God, that was just...strange..._

The silver-haired teen shot his head around, hissing internally at how the sharp slap of air on his face seemed to scratch him like pin-point nails and fixed his gaze directly on Yamamoto.

_Say what? _He threw back at the dark brunette, his green eyes wide with shock that left him rigid on the ground. That voice before had _not _been his own. Never would the Italian think to be so polite about the ordeal he'd just had to endure – the term '_fuck that hurt'_ seemed better suited than '_how strange was that?_'

Just as stunned as his partner, the swordsman swivelled around to face him, eyes widening when he slowly managed to connect the dots one by one. He gasped as the final piece dropped down and leapt up immediately, shouting _Hayato, are you...you can't be...?_

The Italian was too mute to even give him a wry look at that. His thoughts weren't of much assistance either. They just merged into a big massive tangle of questions that were making his head hurt from their intensity.

Chrome looked back and forth; trying not to move too suddenly as she slowly had her illusionistic organs return to her. A small trail of blood trickled down her chin which the Illusionist quickly wiped away in a frail attempt to hide exactly had gone wrong with their little..._expedition._

_Last time I'm ever gonna go diving into someone else's mind..._

Physically shivering, Gokudera snapped to Yamamoto internally, _well it certainly seems to be a difficult habit for you to break!_

Yamamoto flinched and voiced audibly, "Uhh, Chrome? A bit of a problem here..." He pointed to his head and then to Gokudera's to animate his words as best he could.

Chrome's eyes widened in horror but her attention was stolen by a groan from beneath them. There was a near unnoticeable shift but still, when before the boy had been still as a rock, this was progress. Even if it was something as insignificant as a body _moving._

"Tsuna!"

"Tenth!"

Hurriedly they gathered around his crumpled, but somehow upright form, Lambo attaching himself to the boy's leg, Yamamoto punching his shoulder lightly. It was a brief surge of relief that the group let themselves sink into, their bodies momentarily relaxing for what felt like the first time in days.

"I'm sorry," Tsuna kept repeating over and over, his face taut with self-disappointment crossed with envy towards his comrades, "You've all managed to pull it off but me."

Reborn seemed well and truly sick of hearing his student complaining and butted in rather tactfully in Yamamoto's opinion, "The ability to manipulate particles in the air is incredibly difficult, something which few can do because every particle around us is always moving, always in constant flux. If you _are _able to manipulate the particles to your own will - whether it be to make them vibrate more energetically to create fire, or to condense them for rain and so on - it takes an enormous amount of mental control. Those who can do this are able to use practically the entirety of their brains. We regular humans however, are only capable of forty-per-cent."

Gokudera was intrigued, as he always was with anything relevant to science, "so it's not just magic but instead science?"

Reborn gave him a cool look, "Basically if you want the moron's guide to it. What most perceive it as is 'magic' but in fact, it is just the ability to witness the actual movement of the particles surrounding us and bending them to our will. Don't feel disheartened Tsuna, you're just average like the rest of humanity." His tone was supposed to be sympathetic, perhaps even comforting, but came out with an unseen smirk attached to it and had a patronising twinge to it.

Gokudera was a little stunned by Yamamoto's ability to wield such a feat as element bending, but then again, perhaps general intelligence wasn't a part of what made you capable of such abilities. When he had the time, he just _had _to do some research on the matter. The matter was too intriguing for him to simply ignore.

Yamamoto threw his lover a dry look, having heard his partners passing query on his intellect level and his eyes said that the thought was very much unnecessary given their mental situation.

Mentally, Gokudera smacked his head against a wall repeatedly, furious that he hadn't remembered their..._unfortunate _telepathic link. God he hoped it was temporary.

Whilst the comforting pleasantries continued, Gokudera looked away from where Tsuna sat and to the thick curtain of trees, eyes narrowing in suspicion as he heard the unmistakeable sound of thundering footsteps.

Yamamoto quickly caught on and silenced Tsuna mid-sentence, eyes locked on the same mass of trees that Gokudera's were. Reborn looked curious, but unbothered by the obvious advance that was being made upon them. How the child could keep his cool when they were in such a vulnerable situation was beyond the young Italian.

Until of course, he heard the irritating, yet familiar roar of a certain boxer.

"Ryohei...shoulda guessed..." he mumbled drearily.

The tall muscular boy broke through the mass of trees at a sprint, Dino and Hibari right on his heels. Unless it was his imagination, Gokudera _swore _he could see a faint flicker of fire sparking to life in the trees behind them. Birds flocked from the tree tops in their dozens, a sudden black smattering of wild-life which seemed just as desperate to get away as they were.

As the trio came closer, Ryohei panting slowly became more understandable, his deep voice screaming out one word over and over.

"_Jump! You've gotta jump! Jump!_"

_What on earth? _Yamamoto wondered but hastily, they clambered to their feet. Ice slowly dug its claws into Gokudera's gut, an instinctive voice screaming at him faintly. Something had gone wrong – so very wrong. His body trembled violently with worry, muscles rigid with aggravating fear. His heart felt swollen and heavy with anxiety for his lover Yamamoto, who looked so drained it seemed a miracle the boy could stand.

Tsuna looked around in the same manner as a startled meerkat and yelled back, "But where?"

Reborn stamped on his foot, "he means the river."

Tsuna's eyes widened and his voice hitched, "_WHAT? _That's_ insane_! The water'll be freezing!"

Dino, Hibari and Ryohei were upon them and no sooner had they stumbled to a halt did they start relaying what had happened. Hibari breathed hard, but said nothing, his eyes filled only with inner-fury. Judging by the tense set of his shoulders, he hadn't been on the winning side.

"They outnumbered us..." Dino heaved, his breaths too fast and too shallow, "Not enough...power...flames worked...but died..."

Reborn silenced his ex-student with a glacial stare and turned to face the river bank.

_No, no, _no_...not the fricking river again..._Yamamoto heard the airy thought waft into his mind and resisted the urge to shake his head like a dog, thinking he could rid himself of the connection if he shook his head hard enough.

The air around them seemed to change in pressure, the air seeming thinner. It took a moment for the Storm Guardian to remember it was him beginning to hyperventilate that made the air around him seem so thin and non-existent.

"Reborn, we've got to jump now." Dino's plea was spoken in a hurried rush of a breath, and he had to rest an arm on Hibari's shoulder to stop himself from falling over.

"If any of us do, it'll be suicide. Look at it; it's not some meagre little _stream _Dino. The likelihood of us drowning is-" Reborn began but was stopped by the distant shout of foreign voices. With his concentration broken, he look at every one of the Vongola Guardian's in confusion, concern and annoyance, particularly when he looked to Lambo.

"Chrome, give Lambo to me – I'll protect the stupid cow. The rest of you – get into that river, _now._"

"Why not run?" The question seemed appropriate enough, but it seemed for Reborn, an unnecessary query that he had no difficulty in shooting down.

"Because there's no safe trail back to the bikes through that forest. Thanks to these three," he stared at Dino and the latter, "the path back is now on fire. The best way to find another trail would be to go upstream. Lambo and I should be able to make our way across the river bank unnoticed, but all of you," he smirked, "You're just too big."

The strain of being pursued pressed itself into Yamamoto's back, propelling him forward – to just take a leap and dive straight into the rushing currents no matter the risk. Feeling hunted was somehow worse than the fear of the icy water. There were distant shouts now, most of which were in Italian, calling for the Tenth, demanding they stop. As the words became louder and the thundering steps causing the ground beneath them to shudder, Gokudera's vision sharpened with acute terror, his senses more alert than he could bear with such an exhausted body.

Because the Italian was so concerned by the voices that were growing closer with every shallow breath he took, he was more than taken-aback by how he was suddenly airborne, experiencing an abrupt sense of nothingness. By the sounds of the cries from his friends, the boy doubted any of them had expected this – not even Reborn, who had jumped back at the very last minute, grabbing a hold of Lambo so the boy wouldn't fall. They were airborne, the ground beneath them disappearing in a crumbling mess of dirt and broken rock. Like a rope slipping from numb, raw fingers, the tension in the air between them went slack, like it had been a wall keeping them back from the raging depths beneath them.

The bank had given way under their weight. The sudden weightlessness was as bone chillingly terrifying as the fire behind them had been, if not worse. You felt unattached to anything, just a floating mass in space that would come crashing down onto earth somehow, if not by the most graceful of means.

Unlike in films where time seemed to freeze when you were in fatal danger, in Gokudera's case, he was too confused by the images he was getting from Yamamoto's thoughts. They were exactly dominating, but more of an after-image – like when you stared at a flame and when you looked away, there was an imprint of the light on your vision. Yamamoto's thoughts were very much that imprint – constant, lingering and just a _tad _irritating. The only quandary he had was whether like the flame, it would eventually fade.

For a brief instant, Gokudera saw Yamamoto's petrified expression, and then everyone else's, all swamped together to make one mask of outstanding fear.

The faint brush of Gokudera's exhausted mind stilled the churning fear that had settled in Yamamoto's innards. _Whatever happens to us, you were never alone. _Such simple words, yet they hit so very deep, and somehow, Gokudera's words went both ways, settling the uneasy hot panic that had wrapped itself around his skeleton much like how his rain attribute had done barely a few minutes ago. If they were alone, then the fear and terror would be theirs alone to bear– but this way, it could be shared and understood. Weakness came with isolation, strength from numbers, and power through belief in your own resolution.

Somewhere dimly in the back of his senses, Gokudera was aware that the sense of people behind them had dwindled, the distant sound of shouts and roaring forest life fading, like his dimming eyesight. He hoped on whatever he might have had left of a life that they wouldn't find them in the river, that his friends would wash ashore, _alive. _He was too tired, too drained and empty to be able to survive this – not after what they had done to save Tsuna. It had seemed easy at first, but the strain had done more than damage him – it had taken a chunk of his strength out of him that the Italian wondered if he would ever get back.

Gazes still locked, the Italian and the Japanese teen silently let their minds touch one more time tentatively, with the shared understanding of what was about to happen.

The image lasted only a second though before the expressions flickered, then seemed to shift to one of determined horror. For half a horrible second, he saw a blurred mass of distant figures in freefall towards the hungry river, and then they were gone. Having been utterly engulfed in the dark water as it crashed down, they all vanished from view, swallowed by the menacing depths of oblivion.

Frightened by the disappearance of his lover's face, Gokudera cried out, just as his body hit the water, dragging whatever air he'd had out of his lungs. The water tumbled forward, his body being dragged down into its icy grasp as gravity and his momentum carried him down into the harsh, rapid current.

Watery knuckles battered Gokudera's sore and screaming body, swallowing him in its murky hold of never-ending darkness. The freezing needles stabbed at his skin, seeming to chill even his bones. Hot panic sliced through every nerve ending that was still working in his body. He was tossed, pushed, dragged and thrown around as though he weighed nothing in this bed of crushing water, his body being yanked one way and then in another within the same moment.

Blinks of light, snarling pits of darkness – a constant rushing pound of water in his ears that roared so loud it seemed to splinter his soul. The force of the waters iron fists pushed the air from his lungs – but that couldn't be possible – he didn't have any more air to lose. There was only choking oblivion, an eternity of despair and shocked numbness that accompanied pain hand in hand.

The current swamped under him and with a lurch, threw him skywards, or it maybe it was downwards – the boy was unable to distinguish any kind of direction. Left was right, ahead had become behind and heaven had traded sides with hell.

Another cold body slammed into him, but it wasn't water. A tangle of legs and arms crashed into Gokudera's body and the boy thought if he had any more air left to give away, he would have screamed.

The current dragged both their bodies up and Gokudera surfaced, but was unable to tell if the other person had from the deafening roar of water. What if it was Hibari? Or Dino, or Ryohei, Or Yamamoto...or Tsuna...

_Tsuna. _He thought in despair which he took a deep, rattling breath that scratched at his lungs, making them burn. Tsuna couldn't swim – he'd proven that when they had gone to the beach a good year ago with Kyoko and Haru.

Not even able to keep himself from going under again, much less _alive, _Gokudera wondered how on earth he would be able to save the dark haired boy when he himself was struggling just to reach the surface.

His limbs were hardly working, and the current was beyond brutal – dark water was everywhere, so much of it the Italian momentarily wondered if land had ever existed, or if it had just been some illusion, a sense of comforting safety amongst this rushing and tumbling wall of black murk.

Yet, amongst the grey swirling canvas of water, Gokudera saw something that looked like Yamamoto's dark head bob up to the surface a few feet away, a lighter head accompanying it. Within a moment though it was gone again, the water having sucked the darker haired boy's body back under into the horrifying se of dense, silt-filled water that could match the darkness of night.

In relief, Gokudera managed to keep his head up long enough to see a familiar blonde head break the surface, body piercing through the dark wall of water like a torpedo. Quickly, Dino grabbed onto the lighter haired boy who had yet to be dragged under and Gokudera was dragged under just as he saw that the boy Dino had saved was indeed Tsuna. A black haired boy had been held under his arm though, limp as anything, and Gokudera thought it may have been Hibari – but that was impossible. Surely Hibari could swim. Even if he couldn't, the Storm Guardian was sure that the stubborn prefect would rather drown than be aided by the likes of Dino – even if the Cavallone boss _was _his lover.

Blocking out any other thoughts, the river rushed angrily into his mouth and nose, stealing his air, doing its best to suffocate him.

What was it he had to do? The swirling black eternity around him was so good at erasing any sort of thought he managed to conjure.

_Yamamoto, _the thought sprung to life in his mind as bright as the sun. Of course, he couldn't have forgotten Yamamoto – he just couldn't have. But he had hadn't he? He'd sunk into a numb pit of nothingness, where only suffocation and the cruel torture of burning lungs were on his mind.

Just as he was about to try and battle the current to try and break the surface again, the water engulfed him, spinning him around weightlessly in its grip. The weight of it held more force behind it than a wall of bricks falling down on them. The cold temperature shocked his nerves, dulling his senses and numbing his bones. He was stunned, disorientated beyond imagination and completely drained – the little energy he had had left before seemed to just fade into the dull nothingness around him, and he felt an eerie sense of calm come over him.

_Takeshi..._

Stark, unimaginable determination swirled inside him and though the Italian still had no sense of direction, no idea where the surface lay, he kicked out and forced his body to battle against the cruel current, even when his swollen lungs burned for air, making his thoughts swim into one conjuled grey mass.

_No, damn it! This is not my fucking time! I'm not going! _He roared in mental defiance against the river as it pulled him down again with icy, clammy fingers. A stray rock shot by him in the current, clipping his shoulder, making his arm and fingers tingle numbly. Even so, he continued to struggle until he could break the surface yet again. His head broke through the icy wall. It struck him like a pane of glass, its splintering shards tearing at his skin mercilessly.

His lungs automatically choked in as much air as was possible, his throat raw and scorching as the cold air swamped his desperate lungs. He convulsively coughed up water, thrashing with disjointed kicks and strokes to try and keep his head above water. Even when he was able to drag in breaths, Gokudera still felt rather like a lone marionette without its puppeteer. The river pulled his strings, but his limbs jerked in response a few moments later, and sometimes in unexpected directions.

Somewhere in his mind, he could sense Yamamoto's presence, but unlike his own, it was deeper, more submersed in the overwhelming rapids. Though the idea of having his thoughts shared with someone else irked him, the Storm Guardian felt ironically grateful that he was linked with his partner in this way.

Whether it was his keen senses or just the strange mental link he had with his lover to pinpoint his whereabouts, Gokudera hardly had time to dwell on the contributing factors. Instead he kicked his legs, unnoticed strength surging through his nerve endings. His muscles practically screamed and hollered at him with their protests but he dived further, ignoring his body's instinct to abandon the boy and reach the riverbank.

Gokudera's bruised skull felt like it had been dragged across jagged glass; his body still reeling uncontrollably from the strain of Tsuna's mental rescue. Despite his injuries though, as he continued to stubbornly struggle, his motions were starting to become more coherent and controlled again. Even if it _was_ a false sense of strength; a fake adrenaline high caused by his bodies overloaded internal circuitry; right now though, it gave the Storm Guardian the desperately wanted ability to keep struggling away from the surface while current after current tried its best to drag him upwards. Counter-productive if he thought about it practically, but Yamamoto's safety meant more to him that a few heaves of air in his lungs.

Searching around madly in the darkness for any sign of Yamamoto, he tried frantically to keep his gaze focused; hard as it was in water; refusing mentally to let it blur or fade around the edges as his nerves began to sizzle and burn out. He felt undeniably vulnerable and the pressure in his chest was so great it had to have become a danger to his one mortality. Panic clawed at the back of his mind and threatened to claim his common sense right at the most critical point when he knew he could afford no mistakes and smacked down the compulsive emotion with a feeble, exhausted mental hand.

_Focus__. Panicking does _not _increase chances of survival..._Even if it wasn't _his _survival he was focusing on.

* * *

Yamamoto found that everything had gone startlingly calm. Of course, the water still battered and punched at him ferociously, but the awareness of it was fading drastically. A strange, hazy mist fell across his mind, blanketing his fear as consciousness started to waver. It was obvious he was dying, slowly too – but at least the pain had faded. The pressure of the water crushing him was unbearable. No matter how well he could swim under normal circumstances, he couldn't hold his breath any longer. Whatever he'd had left was stripped from his lungs. Dark water flooded his body, choking him.

A sudden flash of silver sparked at the corner of his dimming peripheral vision. Something soft dug into his arms and shoulders – grasping at him desperately. Doubting it was some animal or the river personified, Yamamoto wasn't entirely surprised to see wavering smears of pale skin before his eyes start to coalesce into a face...and certainly a familiar face.

If he could, he would have smiled. It was Gokudera. The Rain Guardian felt strengthened by the thin thread of hope his lover's presence gave him and helped him to hold on a little longer. His lungs struggled to keep the icy water out of his exhausted lungs.

_You complete...moron. _The charming thought barely held its usual tinge of malice that so regularly accompanied his insults that Yamamoto felt momentarily worried by how drained Gokudera must have been. Even as strong a swimmer as he was, the current took whatever strength the boy's had out of them faster than they could blink.

Though his lungs burned, Yamamoto didn't dare let go or give in to the growing desperation he had for air. The impulsive need thundered through his veins, every single receptor in his body bellowing for him to get to the surface. Through the swirling blackness he could just about make out the Italian's face a few inches from his own.

_Oh god..._He didn't have much time, Gokudera knew that, even when his vision was blurred by the stinging water. Yamamoto had been down here far too long and was barely a hair's breadth away from drowning.

_Please... help me... give me the strength I need to save him... _Gokudera silently begged any God who might be listening, fingers slipping in the water as he struggled to keep a hold of Yamamoto.

As the current shifted again, as volatile as a wind, it struck them from underneath, shoving them upwards. Suddenly weightless again, it was a struggle for Gokudera to keep a hold of Yamamoto's body while he desperately clawed for the surface.

Tearing through the icy water, a silver head along with a dark one broke through the churning froth, gasping and choking convulsively for air. Despite the aching exhaustion in his muscles that told he had nothing left to give, Gokudera stubbornly made sure Yamamoto's head was the one that stayed above the surface, even if his had to be dragged back down. Distantly, he saw Yamamoto spit up water, retching and gagging urgently to drag in as much air he could as the rushing flow threatened to pull them both back down.

The best the Rain Guardian could do was clutch Gokudera tightly while the Italian did his best to support his lover until the ragged heaving current finally let his head break the surface again. The moment his chin was above the current, he forced his lungs to drag in all the air he could in ragged heaves.

There was a faint call from his side, and through his blurred and blotchy vision, Yamamoto thought it must have been Dino. A shock of gold sparked at the corner of his vision and the spluttering boy struggled ot make his head turn against the current.

They were free-flowing with the current, but still, just ahead of them, Yamamoto spotted a shape that could only have been the Cavallone boss.

"_..moto! Yamamoto!_" he cried out hoarsely, his arm lashing out.

Something thin slapped the water, coiling itself around his wrist. Crying out at the tight grip, the boy clawed to get it off him but it was too tightly wound around him.

The blonde Italian was practically screaming at them over the rushing waves of the river in fevered tones, his hands clenched as he tried to rein them in as quickly as he could.

Yamamoto was barely holding on and he knew that far too obviously. Both boys were beyond their limits entirely and it was a miracle they hadn't both drowned. The sizzling panic and paranoia in his gut hollered at him to hurry it up though and he dismissed any marvelling awe he had for the boys' stubbornness. Yamamoto was barely holding onto Gokudera, whose head kept on dipping under the surface and they knew those mafia hitman weren't going to be too far away from them. They had maybe ten minutes at the most to get them out and away from here. Not an easy feat in any way given their physical weariness.

"Dino Cavallone! If you _do not _hurry this up and rein those boys in within another breath, I am going to-" but Reborn's crude insults were cut loose from his sharp tongue. His large eyes looked over to the furthest part of the river, back in the direction where the Guardian's had all taken a tumble down the cliff-edge and swore under his breath in Italian. There were two darkened figures by a sturdier cliff edge holding what looked like oil tanks in their hands, sloshing the contents into the river tank after tank. The pieces stuck together in the child's mind as one of the men lit a match and he swore louder.

Busy with roping in the two almost-drowning Guardian's, Dino could only ask, "what is it Reborn? What did you see?"

The child swore under his breath again, "_cazzo bastardi,_" he looked at Dino with fire burning in his eyes, "well hurry up you fool! _Affrettarsi_!"

It was too late though – the match was thrown into the river where the oil was at its thickest and just as the label said, the river erupted in flames. 'Flammable' made the explosion they saw seem tame. The flames rose high in the sky, its hot coiling fingers engulfing all it touched. As the oil fused with the rapid current, the flames lurched forward, their ferocious hot tendrils driving closer and closer.

Judging by the distance both Yamamoto and Gokudera were at, and the physical toll it was taking on the Cavallone boss' body, Reborn had the sickening thought that they wouldn't make it. No, correction; there was no possibility those boys would make it. They would be consumed by those flames and not even _he _knew what could be done to help the stranded Guardian's without them drowning.

Sick with horror, all Dino and Reborn could do was try and drag the two Guardian's bodies in as fast as they could and beg any supernatural force of nature that the flames wouldn't reach them before they were brought ashore. Sadly as luck would have it, nature and science worked as it should, and all the two men could do was stare in horror as the flames shot forward towards their Storm and Rain Guardians.

_**A/N: **__Ok, I am SO SORRY it took so long for this damn chapter to come out T_T I was really into it in the first few pages, but then exams sprung themselves on me and I was utterly swamped with school work for a good six weeks so...forgive the extensive wait...*bows to my readers* The next chapter should be a little shorter *I think I might have rambled a little too much in this one...D:* and I'm sorry that I've thrown up the angst and tension again xD not to worry though, there's a (modest am I?) revelation in the next chapter and a little tender TLC for our dear boys and I was hoping to get in a New Years special, but it seems that it might be a little late, popping up somewhere closer to Easter xDD oh well, maybe I can merge it into an Easter special too xDD Thank you so much for keeping up with this series! I will continue it *determined expression* but the chapters might just take insanely long to come out...hopefully the next one will be out sometime in mid January at the latest!_


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